


oh, but those girls are trouble

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DI John Smith has been investigating a series of robberies over the last several months, but all he knows about the thief - or thieves - is that they call themselves Impossible Wolf. In the midst of the investigation, he strikes up a flirtation with a waitress named Clara, and then with her 'friend' Rose. Eventually, he begins to suspect there's more to them than meets the eye, and faces an internal battle of duty versus desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also features brief appearances by Jack Harkness and Danny Pink (but not worth tagging them). The rating is for later chapters.

DI John Smith smirked at the sight of his partner's feet on his desk, and smacked his shoe as he walked by.

"C'mon, Mick. Impossible Wolf strikes again."

" _Again?_ " DS Mickey Smith said incredulously as he lowered his feet to the floor and pushed to stand. He snatched his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on as he followed John from the office. "How many months has it been, and we still haven't caught these guys?"

"What makes you think they're guys?" John asked with a frown.

"Dunno," Mickey replied. "Aren't most robbers guys?"

"Smash and grab types, maybe," John said as they jogged down the steps and moved swiftly to their police car. "They make mistakes, and they're easy to catch. These two, they're serial thieves. Smart, stealthy, and if the handwriting on the notes they leave is anything at all to go by, female."

"I guess," Mickey said, though he still didn't sound convinced.

"Don't underestimate women," John said, pointing a finger at his partner over the top of the car. "After all, look at our esteemed chief inspector."

"Okay, you have a point there," Mickey replied as they settled into the car. "Hard to shake this stuff sometimes."

"Been there. You'll get it."

If this robbery had been committed by Impossible Wolf, it would be the seventh in the past four months, averaging to almost one every two weeks. Something told him this crime scene would have no evidence, just like all the others, but maybe they would get lucky.

They arrived at the scene a short while later and John got out of the car, peering around the neighborhood. Kensington. They were stepping up their game.

A tall man in a suit was standing on the sidewalk outside of one of the houses, and John and Mickey approached him.

"Jack," John said, grinning as he held out his hand for DI Harkness to shake. "It's been a bit, how have you been? How's Ianto?"

"We're both good," Jack replied as he shook Mickey's hand with a smile. "Getting ready for the baby."

"Oh, that's right, and how's Gwen?"

"About ready to pop. She gripes a lot, but I think secretly she's enjoying it. Rhys jokes that since it's not his baby, Ianto and I should be the ones making the late night food runs, but I just remind him that once it's all over, Ianto and I will be the ones with the newborn keeping us up at all hours."

John laughed, and then looked up at the house. "So, what have we got?"

"Well, I'm sure you can guess, victim discovered several thousand pounds worth of jewelry missing, and called us. No signs of forced entry –"

"Locks picked," John interrupted, staring around the neighborhood again.

"And nothing else taken or disturbed."

"They know what they want, and exactly where it is."

"Sounds like your girl. Or girls."

John nodded, and looked back at Jack. "Have you inspected the scene?"

Jack shook his head. "I know you know what you're looking for, and I didn't want to accidentally disturb something."

"If it's them, there'll be a note," John said as he started up to the house, Jack and Mickey in tow. The door opened as they approached, revealing a rather austere looking older woman, her white hair done up in a bun.

"Detective Inspector John Smith," John said as he approached, not bothering to hold out his hand. "And my partner, Detective Sergeant Mickey Smith."

Normally he'd follow this up with a cheeky, "No relation," but he doubted she'd see the humor in it.

"Ruth Stein," she replied, eyeing John and Mickey appraisingly.

"DI Smith has been investigating a series of robberies that match yours," Jack supplied from behind them. "I called him in so he could take a look."

The woman gave a nod and stood aside so the three of them could enter, and John asked her to explain what had happened as he withdrew his notepad from his inside jacket pocket.

"My husband and I are attending a party tonight, and I went to my closet to decide what jewelry to wear. When I opened the safe, I discovered several incredibly valuable pieces were missing, so I notified the police, and Mr. Harkness arrived. I told him the same story, and then he called you."

John nodded. "And the safe was locked?"

Ruth huffed. "I have already explained all of this to your other man, why must I restate it?"

John kept his eyebrow from inching up with some difficulty, and instead raised his chin and gave her his warmest smile.

"Because, Mrs. Stein, I have to hear it directly from you. Now, if you could answer my question."

Ruth sighed again. "Yes, the safe was locked."

"Mrs. Stein, have you and your husband been away recently?"

"Yes, we spent last weekend in France, visiting my husband's family."

John nodded once more. "And have you had any parties lately in your home? Within the past few weeks?"

"Yes, actually," she replied, sounding surprised. "About... three weeks ago."

"Was it catered? Wait staff and the like?"

"Yes. Are you saying the thief was among them?"

"It's very possible. May I see the safe, please?"

Ruth nodded, and led them up to the second floor and into a rather large and well-furnished master bedroom. She continued on towards the closet, and opened the doors to reveal a room the size of John's bedroom in his flat.

"The safe is back here," she said, leading him forward. There was a safe set in the wall, revealed through a gap between several dresses, and John raised his eyebrows.

"Were the dresses like that when you came in here earlier?"

"No, they were as they normally are. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until I opened the safe."

John gave a nod. "Would you mind opening it for me?"

Ruth stepped forward, and John looked away while she entered the code, rolling his eyes at Mickey, who smirked. Even if he did see the code, it wasn't as if he was going to come back and relieve her of the rest of her jewelry, but it was better to err on the side of caution, and politeness.

When the safe was open, Ruth and John traded places, John withdrawing a pair of latex gloves from his pocket as he stepped forward.

"Do you know what all was taken?" he asked as he gave the safe a scrutinizing look.

"A diamond necklace and earrings for certain, because that's what I was going to pick to wear tonight, but there might be more. There are pictures of everything in our safe deposit box; Harold can get them on his way home. He's been in an important meeting all morning that he can't get away from, but he'll be home as soon as he can."

John nodded absently, still staring at the safe. He had a brief thought about fingerprints, but knew it was incredibly unlikely that there would be any prints aside from those of Mr. and Mrs. Stein.

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?" he asked, glancing at Ruth. "Anything that might have been left behind?"

"No, but I was rather distracted when I noticed the jewelry was missing."

John bent to peer into the safe, and quickly found what he was looking for, a small white envelope tucked against the side of the safe. He pulled it out, staring at his name written neatly on the front, and turned, gesturing at Mickey to hand him an evidence bag. He slipped the note into the bag, his gaze on the safe again, and started to turn away when something else caught his eye.

Bending to squint at the safe door, he reached forward and plucked a single long blonde hair from the hinge.

"See something, John?" Jack asked.

"No," John said as he straightened and pulled his gloves off, shoving both them and the hair into the pocket of his jacket. "Just a trick of the light."

 

John was in his flat later that night, sitting on his couch with the television on, though the volume was turned low and his attention was directed elsewhere.

The coffee table was covered with photocopies of the Impossible Wolf case file, from the paltry forensic results, to the cursory incident reports, to the notes they had found at every crime scene.

What it all boiled down to was that they had nothing. They never found fingerprints, never found any other physical evidence; the thieves were so neat that it often took several days for the victims to even notice that anything had been taken, and by then, it became almost impossible to track the items down.

John reached for the cup of tea on the table and sat back as he lifted it to his lips. He grimaced when he lowered the mug; he'd let it sit too long. He made no move to get up and make a fresh cup, though, instead sitting with the mug in his lap and his eyes still on the papers on the coffee table.

The blonde hair he'd found at the crime scene earlier that day had been the first piece of physical evidence he'd ever seen, but he'd kept it to himself. It was more likely that it was just a stray piece of hair, and wouldn't be of any help to the case. Well, aside from knowing that the suspect, or one of them, was blonde. How many girls were there in London with long blonde hair? It did them no good.

At least that's what he kept telling himself.

With a sigh, he pushed to his feet and ambled into the kitchen to make a fresh cup of tea. He leaned against the counter while he waited, his eyes still on the coffee table in the living room, and thought about the notes the thieves always left behind.

In the beginning, the notes had been fairly generic, more like admonishments of the people they'd targeted, brief ideas of what the victims had done to deserve the punishment of being robbed. Typically the transgressions involved being rude to people of lower socioeconomic standing than themselves – wait staff, cleaning staff, taxi and bus drivers, shop workers. The victims always downplayed the incidents, but John always thought that whatever they had done must have exceptionally horrible for them to be targeted to be taught a lesson.

Lately, since the case had started gaining public attention, and since it'd been announced in the papers that he was the lead investigator, the notes had become more personal, directed towards him. They still outlined the reasons for the robberies, but now the thieves also spoke to him, usually in a conversational, and occasionally flirty, tone.

These girls seemed rather brazen and confident, but he supposed they had good reason to be, since he was no step closer to figuring out who they were.

Sighing again, he added a bit of milk and sugar to his tea, and sipped at it as he carried it back into the living room.

The photocopy of the note from the most recent robbery was on top of the stack, and he picked it up as he set his tea down, his brown eyes skating over the lines.

_Dearest DI Smith,_  
The illustrious Mrs. Stein is our latest target, after she was seen kicking a poor defenseless dog for tracking mud all over her precious white shoes. Honestly, who wears white shoes in the city when it's raining? Anyway, maybe now she'll think twice about how she treats the "lesser" of us out there, even if they are just lowly animals.  
We hope you're well, and not under too much stress.  
Yours,  
Impossible Wolf 

We. It was the first clear indication, beyond the two different handwriting styles, that the there was more than one person behind this. There were plenty of other clues that had been found in the notes so far: two different handwritings, distinctly feminine, though nobody was yet comfortable enough to say outright that the thieves were women; both writers seemed to possess an education beyond that of secondary school, though it was unclear if either of them had any university training; they were clever and rather witty; and given the reasons for their robberies, it had been assumed that they were both working class, probably waitresses or shop girls.

That boiled it down to thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, of women in London and all of the surrounding boroughs. Up until the Kensington robbery, the robberies had all occurred in Islington, which was how John ended up with the case, and while it suggested the girls also lived somewhere in Islington, it wasn't a guarantee.

Above all of that, they were smart enough to pull off several robberies over the past few months without leaving behind a shred of real evidence, and if they were selling the items they took, there was no real way to track them down, since it usually took several days for the victims to notice anything was missing, and by the time the crimes were reported, the valuables would have long since been sold.

With a frustrated groan, John dropped the note onto the table and sat back on the couch, his head dropping against the back cushions as he ran his hands down his face. Almost as if on cue, the baby from next door started to cry, and he allowed a small smile to curve his lips. A break was what he needed, and he pushed to his feet, snagging his keys and leaving his flat, locking his door before stepping to the left to rap his knuckles on his neighbors' door.

Amy answered the door, looking flustered with a screaming Melody in her arms.

"John, I'm so sorry –"

John waved his hand as he stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. "You didn't disturb me. Beating my brains out on this case, and I heard Mel crying. Felt like a sign that I should take a break. You need some help?"

"Just keep an eye on the things on the stove while I feed and change her," Amy said as she disappeared into her and Rory's bedroom.

John obliged, peering into the pots and giving the potatoes a stir as he adjusted the temperature. It was nearly 8:00, which meant that if Amy was making dinner this late, Rory must be working afternoons at the hospital.

The kitchen was in a bit of a state, so he busied himself with cleaning things up some, putting away dishes and then washing dirty ones. He never gave much of a thought to the cleanliness of his own flat, but Amy and Rory were young parents, and with a baby around, John knew it was best to keep things neat and tidy.

"There we are," Amy's voice said after several minutes. "All fed, and with a fresh nappy."

John grinned at her from his position in front of the sink, and she laughed and shook her head as she joined him in the kitchen.

"You didn't have to clean up."

John shrugged. "Good distraction. My brain's about mush right now."

"Working on a case?" Amy asked, transferring Melody to John when he held out his arms for her.

"The usual," he replied as he looked at Melody and gave her a smile.

"Oh, that Impossible Wolf thing?"

"The same."

"You still haven't caught them?" Amy asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Oi!" John retorted, making her laugh.

Amy laughed as she checked the pots on the stove. "I don't mean that in a bad way, necessarily, it's just – they must be really good, if you lot haven't caught them yet."

"Nice save," John said, the corner of his mouth rising as he gently bounced Melody in his arms. Then he sighed as he sank into a chair. "You're right, though. They are really good, because they haven't left behind a single shred of physical evidence."

"Nothing at all? Wow, that's impressive."

"Maybe so, but it makes my job really hard."

"How many robberies have they done?" Amy asked, folding her arms over her chest as she rested her hip against the counter.

"7, including the one that was reported this morning."

"Over what, 4 months?"

John nodded, his hand rubbing absently over Melody's back. "Something like that. Let's talk about something else, how's the writing coming?"

"Which? Work or the book?"

"Both."

"Work writing is good, I sent off a couple of articles today, which meant I got to work on my book some more. It's funny, I was afraid that after she was born, I'd have even less time to write, but so far it hasn't been so bad. I might be able to get this book finished by the time she starts walking."

John laughed quietly. "Well, I look forward to buying it the day it's out."

"Might even sign it for you," Amy said with a grin, making John laugh again. She looked at him a moment, and then a softer smile curved her lips. "You're so good with her. You're like a baby whisperer."

John turned his head to look at Melody. "I just speak baby."

Amy giggled softly, and glanced at the clock before turning to pull plates from the cupboard.

"You're staying for dinner, right?" she said, looking back at him over her shoulder.

"Er, I wasn't planning on it."

"Have you _had_ dinner?"

"No."

"Then you're staying for dinner."

John knew it was useless to argue, and sat holding the baby as Amy set the table.

The door opened just as she was pulling the roast out of the oven, and Rory stepped inside. Amy beamed and moved to kiss him, and he smiled when he turned and saw John at the table.

"Hey, John. She force you into dinner again?"

"I will admit it didn't take a lot of arm twisting."

Rory gave a knowing nod, and stepped forward to gently take Melody from John.

"Think she's out cold," John said as he stood.

"Long enough for us to eat, at least," Rory replied with a crooked grin as he started back to the bedroom.

John helped Amy bring the food to the table, and when Rory returned a few minutes later, dressed now in sweatpants and a t-shirt, they all sat down to eat.

Once they were finished, John helped clear the table, and then stayed a little bit longer when Amy pressed dessert on him. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed evenings with the Ponds (Rory's last name was Williams, but John always secretly thought of them as the Ponds, given Amy's strong personality and Rory's tendency to cave to his wife's will). It was nice to be friends with his neighbors, and to have a place to go when he needed a break that was just a few short steps away from his flat.

After coffee and cake, he dismissed himself back to his flat, wishing Amy and Rory a good night as he left. Everything was exactly as he'd left it, and he stared at the documents spread across his coffee table before shaking his head and moving towards his bedroom, intending to take a quick shower and then lie in bed and watch television until he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

John walked into the station the next morning, a coffee in each hand and _The Guardian_ tucked under his arm. Mickey was at his desk, looking distinctly bleary-eyed over a mug of the office coffee, and John set one of the cups in his hand on the desk.

"I keep telling you, that stuff'll get you nowhere."

Mickey gave him a crooked smile of thanks, and John continued to his desk. He dropped into his chair and pushed the power button on his computer, and picked up his newspaper while he waited for it to boot.

The main headline was something to do with politics, and he grimaced a little as he unfolded the paper; it was too early in the morning to deal with that. His eyes skimmed the other headlines on the front page, and then he groaned.

_Impossible Wolf strikes again._

"Bloody hell, Donna," he muttered, knowing it was her before he even read the byline. He was having lunch with her today, and he already planned to give her a hard time for this headline.

A voice calling his name caught his attention, and he looked up to see his boss beckoning to him from her office. He set the paper down and pushed to stand, grabbing his coffee before striding into her office.

DCI Martha Jones was one of the youngest Detective Chief Inspectors in the Met, which John only saw as evidence of her brilliance and tenacity, and he was one of her biggest supporters, and defenders when it was necessary.

"Have a seat, John," she said, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. "I just wanted to see where we are on the Impossible Wolf case."

"Not any further than we were yesterday, I'm afraid," he confessed as he sank into a chair.

"There was nothing at the new crime scene?" Martha asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

"No, ma'am," John replied, shaking his head as that strand of blonde hair flashed through his mind. "No DNA, no fingerprints, no physical evidence, nothing. Interviewed the neighbors, nobody saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. Same as all the others."

"This isn't good for us," Martha sighed, sitting back in her chair.

"Believe me, I know."

"And there wasn't anything new in the note? No clue?"

"They used the word 'we', which confirms what we already suspected, that there's at least two people involved, but that doesn't really give us anything to go on."

"And you still think it's two women?"

John nodded. "The handwriting is a big clue to me, but it's mostly just a gut feeling. Every crime scene is just too neat, nothing out of place, and sure, a man could do that too, but I just feel like it's a woman. Or rather, women."

Martha sighed again. "I suppose we just have to keep at it. Maybe they'll get sloppy. Oh, and keep an eye on your friend Donna, yeah? Last thing we need is more wild speculation in the papers."

John arched an eyebrow. "I can control Donna about as well as I could control a grizzly bear. The fact that she's my best mate changes nothing. I'm having lunch with her today, though, so I'll do what I can."

Martha laughed. "Fair enough. Thanks, John, you can go now."

John nodded and stood, sipping his coffee as he headed back out into the main office.

The rest of the morning was surprisingly quiet, giving John time to catch up on some paperwork before he left for lunch.

Donna Noble was a loud, bossy redhead who worked as a reporter for _The Guardian_ , a job which John had always thought suited her almost too well. They'd been friends for a few years now, something that his coworkers liked to give him a hard time about, calling it, "Consorting with the enemy." John admitted that Donna could be as dogged and ruthless as any other reporter, but she could be incredibly empathetic too, and at the end of the day, she was John's best mate, and he was grateful to have her.

"Impossible Wolf strikes again?" he said by way of greeting when he approached the table she had gotten for them.

"10 quid says you said that exact phrase to Mickey when you heard about the latest robbery," she retorted, giving him a pointed stare as he sank into his chair.

"Bugging my office now?"

Donna sat back in her seat, a satisfied smirk on her face as she reached for her soda. "I just know you."

John just shook his head, eyes on his menu even though he already knew what he wanted, and when the waitress came by after a couple of seconds, he asked for water and an order of fish and chips.

"Coming right up!" the waitress replied cheerfully, making John look up at her. She was very pretty, with big brown eyes and brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail, and John couldn't help watching it swing as she spun away from the table.

"Oi, quit ogling the cute young waitress," Donna said, swatting at him with her napkin.

"I'm not _ogling_ ," he muttered, pulling his gaze from the waitress to look at Donna's amused face.

"Uh huh. When was the last time you went on a date, anyway?"

"How is that important?"

"I'm just saying. You do seem to have a thing for redheads..."

John snorted as Donna made a show of patting her hair, and shook his head.

"My mates are redheads. My girlfriends have been blondes and brunettes. Two each, as a matter of fact. Wonder which one will be next."

The waitress returned at that moment with John's water, and he shared a smile with her, catching the name on her nametag – Clara – before she walked away again.

"Bet I can guess," Donna said, propping her chin in her hand.

 

Clara Oswald pawed through her purse for her keys as she walked down the corridor to her flat, and looked up as she pulled them out. Danny Pink, her friend, ex-boyfriend, and former coworker, who also happened to live next door to her, was getting home at the same time, and she smiled when she saw him.

"Hey, Danny!" she said brightly, making him look up at her.

"Hey, Clara," he replied, smiling back at her. "How was your day?"

"Not too bad, actually. How about you? How did your students do on that exam?"

"I'm about to find out," he said, lifting his bag.

Clara laughed and nodded as she unlocked the door to her flat. "Well, if you need a break, tap on the door; I think Rose and I are just planning on ordering in and watching telly all night."

Danny laughed too. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Clara."

Clara flashed him another smile before disappearing into her flat, closing and locking the door behind her. Rose was seated cross-legged on the couch, laptop open in her lap, and Clara moved forward, still smiling.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey," Rose replied, looking up when Clara came to a stop in front of her and leaned down for a kiss.

"How was school?" Clara asked as she straightened and headed into the bedroom to change.

"Usual. Nothing too exciting to report. How was work?"

"Oh, you won't believe who came in today!" Clara called, hurrying to change into a tank top and sweatpants.

"Who?" Rose called back.

"DI Smith," Clara replied as she emerged from the bedroom.

Rose's eyes widened. "No way. Is he as hot in person as he is in the paper?"

"Definitely." Clara flopped down beside Rose on the couch, and grinned. "And I think he was checking me out."

Rose gave a quick laugh. "Can't say I blame him. And hey, if it got down to it, I'm open to a threesome."

Clara laughed too, and looked at Rose's laptop. "What are you doing?"

"Research."

"Well, put that aside for a second. I want to count it."

The corner of Rose's mouth lifted as she gave Clara a sidelong look, and she leaned forward to set her laptop on the coffee table before they stood and headed into the bedroom. Clara opened the closet door, and they both knelt to the floor to grasp the sides of the small safe inside, tugging it to them. Clara took the lock in her hands, quickly spinning the combination, and when the door popped open, she shared a look with Rose. They opened the safe together, and grinned at the sight that greeted them.

"There's always something so satisfying about seeing it like this," Rose murmured, reaching forward to run her fingers along the edge of the nearest stack of money.

"I know. C'mon, let's count it; we need an updated number after selling that last batch."

Dividing the money between them, they settled on the floor to count it, eventually coming up with just over £100,000, and Rose shook her head in wonder.

"Never thought I'd see this much money all in one place. Have you thought about what we're gonna do with it?"

"Dunno," Clara replied, updating the number on the small scrap of paper they kept against the inside wall of the safe. "Maybe take some kind of epic vacation."

Rose giggled. "That'd be nice."

"I still don't quite feel like we're done, though. Maybe do a few more."

"Sounds good to me. Build up our little savings account here."

Clara capped the pen and tossed it back into the safe. "Speaking of a savings account, though, I've been thinking maybe we ought to put some of it into a bank. Maybe one of those off shore deals, you know? Maybe even something that would build interest."

"Couldn't hurt, I guess," Rose said slowly.

"I just worry about the thought of somebody robbing _us_. Or really, of anybody coming across a safe full of money in our bedroom closet."

"That wouldn't be good," Rose murmured as she raised her eyebrows. "Though maybe they'd just think we were prostitutes or exotic dancers or something."

Clara laughed as Rose grinned, and they started returning the money to the safe. Once it was all stacked inside, they closed the door and Clara gave the lock a spin before they carefully pushed it back into the closet.

"You still okay for this weekend?" Clara asked as they left the bedroom.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"I know it's supposed to be my go, but I couldn't get out of that bloody shift, and I can't very well ask for a night off to commit a crime."

Rose smiled. "It's okay. I like doing it. Besides, you're on tap for that huge benefit in a few weeks, so you need to prepare for that."

"True. Okay, what do we want for dinner?"

"Chips," Rose replied promptly, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"The only time you don't want chips is when you're sick," Clara said with a laugh as she pulled some takeout menus from a drawer.

"It's an addiction, I can't help it."

"How about burgers and chips, then?" Clara murmured, flipping through the menus. "Might see if Danny wants to join us."

"Mmm, dinner with your ex," Rose muttered.

"Shut up," Clara laughed. "You're friends with him too."

"Well, yeah, it's just sometimes it hits me that like... you used to work with him, you used to date him, and you still live next door to him."

Clara snorted. "It's not like I was gonna tell him to find somewhere else to live after we broke up. Besides, I might not have dated him if you had told me how you felt sooner."

Rose gave her a look, and Clara grinned, leaning in for a kiss before she sent a text message to Danny, asking if he wanted to come over for dinner. He agreed, and tapped on the door just a few seconds later.

"That was fast," Clara said with a laugh when she opened the door.

"I had already started grading exams when I got your message," Danny said as he stepped inside, "and after the first few, dinner and telly with you guys sounded a _lot_ better than trying to get through the rest."

Clara laughed and nodded as she closed the door. "I can understand that."

"Beer?" Rose asked, poking her head above the refrigerator door.

"Mmm, yes, please," Danny replied. "This night is already looking up."

Rose grinned as she handed him a bottle, and Clara verified that Danny was okay with burgers and chips before she called in the order.

They ate at the table, and Clara asked how things were at the school.

Danny shrugged. "Not that different."

"They haven't hired any new teachers, have they?" Clara asked shrewdly.

"No. Trust me; I'd raise hell if they did."

"Have they fired anybody else?"

"No. Not yet, anyway."

"Well, I guess that's something," Clara murmured. "S'pose you're safe, being both a maths teacher and a P.E. teacher."

Danny gave a short laugh. "I don't have a whole lot of pride at not getting fired just because of that, especially since I hadn't even been there as long as you and the others when they let you all go."

Clara sighed. "Oh well. The chip shop isn't so bad, and I get tips every once in a while, which is nice."

"Maybe I should put up a tip jar," Danny said, raising his eyebrows.

Rose and Clara laughed, and the corner of Danny's mouth rose as he lifted his beer to his lips.

After they ate, they settled on the couch to find a movie to watch. Rose and Danny came across one that Clara said sounded awful, but they overruled her, and she grumbled as Rose hit play.

"This already looks stupid."

"It's just the credits," Rose laughed.

"Still. I'm gonna go make some popcorn."

Rose and Danny watched as Clara stood and headed into the kitchen, and glanced at each other with a grin.

Clara returned a few minutes later with a large bowl of popcorn and three sodas, and dropped back down between Rose and Danny. She handed them each a soda, and they both protested, saying they wanted another beer, but Clara tsked.

"You have school in the morning," she said to Danny, and then turned to Rose. "And you have to work."

"She's literally girlfriending both of us right now," Danny said incredulously.

"Shut up and watch your movie," Clara said, sinking down in her seat and lifting her feet onto the coffee table.

It didn't take long for Rose and Danny to see that the movie really was as bad as Clara said it would be, and eventually the three of them started throwing popcorn at the TV every time someone did or said something stupid, which was often.

By the time the movie was over, there was popcorn all over the floor, and the three of them were laughing, slumped together on the couch.

"Okay, so it really was bad," Rose managed through her giggles.

"But at least it was a fun kind of bad," Danny added.

"True," Clara replied, and waved her hand at the popcorn on the floor. "Okay, Danny, clean it all up."

"What?" he exclaimed. "But you were the one –"

Clara tipped her head against the back of the couch, lips curving in a small smile, and Danny sighed and shook his head.

"You use the dirtiest tricks," he muttered as he pushed to his feet.

Clara turned her head to look at Rose, who raised her eyebrows.

"You really do, you know."

"Whatever, you guys just can't handle how cute I am," Clara said airily as she stood too.

Rose grinned as she followed suit, and moved to help Danny sweep up the popcorn while Clara busied herself with the dinner dishes and cleaning up the kitchen.

Once everything was cleaned up, Danny sighed and said he should head back home and try to grade a few more exams before bed.

"Good luck," Clara said, smiling as she hugged him and wished him a good night. Rose did the same, and he smiled back, holding up his hand in a brief wave as he stepped from their flat.

Once he was gone, Clara cast a glance around the kitchen, her hands on her hips, and then heaved a sigh as she looked at Rose.

"How about we go to bed, and find another, much better, movie to watch?"

"And then not watch it?" Rose replied, smirking with her tongue between her teeth.

"Something like that," Clara murmured, grinning as she moved close to Rose. They kissed, fingers weaving together between them, and then Clara stepped away, hand still joined with Rose's as she led her to the bedroom.

 

The small hours of Saturday morning found Rose crouched in the dark space between two houses, taking shallow breaths and listening to the night. She was in Notting Hill this time, and some part of her was annoyed by the wealth that was amassed here. The other part of her knew that if she had this kind of money, she'd buy a house just like this one.

All things considered, she and Clara weren't too bad off. The pay at the chip shop was decent, and Clara was good with money, and had saved up enough while she was a teacher that they had a decent sized safety net if they ever needed it. They hadn't yet touched their _other_ savings account, only opening the safe to add more money and update the total.

Clara had joked about using the money to go on holiday, but Rose couldn't help thinking it might be nice to use it to buy a proper house. It wasn't enough for anything like what she was currently kneeling outside of, but they could find something small and cozy. Something nice. Something that was _theirs_.

Holding back a sigh, Rose forced herself to focus; now was not the time for daydreaming and wishful thinking.

It was after midnight, and the neighborhood was silent as the grave. There had been a car about ten minutes ago, but nothing in the hour before, and no hint of anything since, and Rose decided it was safe to make her move. She was dressed in tight black pants and a long sleeved black bodysuit, with black trainers on her feet and thin black gloves on her hands. Her long blonde hair was tucked carefully underneath a black knit hat, and she grimaced as the pulled a mask down over her face. She hated wearing the mask, but her face didn't exactly blend in with the darkness, and she only needed it to get into the house; she could take it off when she got inside.

Once she was sure she was sufficiently covered, she straightened and adjusted the straps of her small backpack before making her way down the narrow space between the two houses. The house on the left was her target, and she easily launched herself over the decorative wrought iron fence into the small backyard.

Crouching again, she pulled off her trainers and reached into her backpack to pull out thinner soft soled shoes, shoving her other shoes into the bag. The back patio was tile, not stone, and the thinner shoes were quieter, and less likely to leave behind footprints and debris.

Normally, she'd climb to the terrace and gain access to the house that way, but these people were either particularly dim, or exceedingly arrogant, and Rose knew where the spare key was. They also didn't use an alarm system, and Rose smirked to herself as she let herself in through the back door. This was going to be the easiest one yet.

The house was dark and silent, and Rose carefully pulled the door closed behind her. She'd posed as a maid from a cleaning service a couple of weeks ago, part of a team hired to clean the house before a big party, and had gotten to know the layout of the house very well.

The family was away on holiday in Italy, and wouldn't be back for a week, which gave Rose and Clara plenty of time to sell whatever Rose took before the police even caught wind of the theft.

Keeping her footsteps light, Rose moved quickly through the kitchen towards the stairs, and headed up to the second floor, where she pushed the mask up and blew out a breath. She headed first for the daughter's room, remembering with another flash of annoyance the way the teenaged brat had flashed her necklace at the poor café waitress, loudly proclaiming that it had cost £10,000 and was worth more than the waitress's life.

The girl's jewelry box was on top of her dresser, and Rose carefully lifted the lid. The contents were a jumbled mess, and Rose scowled as she reached behind her to pull a tiny penlight from the side pocket of her backpack. She shone it over the jewelry, searching for the necklace with her eyes before finally spotting the pendant, and reached forward, carefully nudging a ring outside so she could grab the necklace. She nudged the ring back into place, lowered the lid of the jewelry box, and shrugged off her backpack to add the necklace to the secret pouch along the inner lining.

The parents' bedroom was on the next floor, and Rose continued up, pushing open the door at the top of the stairs. She headed straight for the large jewelry box, more like a chest, against the wall by the closet, and opened the top, plucking a couple of rings from the soft pillowed holder before bending to open the doors.

"Damn," she whispered. One of the necklaces she'd wanted to take was gone, presumably taken with the woman on holiday, but it wasn't a big deal. Nothing in this box would be worth more than a few hundred pounds. The really valuable stuff was in the safe, and Rose pushed the jewelry box doors closed before stepping over to the closet. She thought it was funny how so many rich people seemed to keep their safes in their bedroom closets, but at least it kept things simple.

She set about figuring out the safe combination, and beamed when it clicked free, swinging the door open and peering at the contents. She took what she wanted, careful to disturb nothing else, and added the pieces to her backpack, then pulled a small white envelope from her bag and tucked it inside the safe before closing the door and spinning the combination lock to land exactly where it had been before she opened it.

Satisfied, she left the bedroom and let herself out of the house, locking the door and replacing the key inside the large potted plant by the back doors. She changed her shoes by the fence and made her way back down the narrow path between the two houses.

The street was still deserted, and she kept a calm, steady pace as she started down the sidewalk.

After a few minutes, she adjusted her backpack so it hung more casually off one shoulder, and pulled off her cap, running her fingers through her hair as it tumbled to her shoulders. She stuffed the cap into her bag, and pulled out a long sleeved top, pausing just long enough to tug it on over her bodysuit before continuing on her way.

After a half an hour, she approached a 24 hour parking garage and found her car right where she'd left it two days ago. Smiling, she unlocked the door and got inside, setting her backpack in the passenger seat before starting the car and heading for home.

Clara was reading in bed when Rose got there, and she smiled when Rose stepped into the bedroom. Rose didn't miss the touch of relief on her face, and moved to kiss her, setting the backpack on the bed.

"Check it out," she murmured. "I'm gonna go shower."

Clara nodded, and Rose moved into the bathroom, shedding clothing as she went.

"Much better," she said when she returned. "I hate wearing that tight stuff."

"You look really hot in it, though, if that helps," Clara replied, grinning when Rose giggled.

"So do you," Rose said, dropping onto the bed and leaning over for another kiss. "So, how'd I do?"

"Really well," Clara murmured, turning her attention to the glittering jewelry in front of her on the bed. "We'll add to our savings nicely."

Rose smiled, pleased with herself. "Paris in the morning, then."

"Paris," Clara echoed, smiling too as she lifted her gaze to Rose and pulled her forward for one more kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

John took a deep breath outside the chip shop, resisting the urge to look through the windows and see if Clara was inside before he went in. He couldn't deny, even to himself, that most of the reason he was here was to see her. He just worried what she might think of it, given that this was the third Tuesday since he and Donna had come here for lunch that he'd come back, by himself, and sat in Clara's section each time.

It made him feel like a teenager to think it, but he had a crush, pure and simple. He wondered if Clara had any sort of feeling about him, but it was doubtful. She was a pretty waitress in a popular chip shop in central London; dozens of men probably flirted with her every day, and it was her job to be nice, and smile, and laugh.

Not to mention Donna would give him hell if she found out what he was doing.

Still, Clara was a nice reprieve from sitting at his desk doing paperwork, or taking a call from some rich person, complaining that they'd been relieved of a few jewelry items, and he made his way into the restaurant.

"Hey!" Clara said brightly. "Been waiting on you."

John grinned as he moved to his usual table. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mmhmm," Clara replied, grinning back as she leaned her hip against the table. "My Tuesday man."

John laughed at that, feeling the back of his neck grow warm, and nodded when Clara asked if he wanted his usual. His phone chimed with a text message as she walked away, and he was scowling at the display when she returned.

"Something wrong?" she asked, setting his drink in front of him.

"Just a case I'm working on," he replied, dropping his phone to the table.

"You're the one doing that Impossible Wolf case, right?"

John looked up in vague surprise. "How do you know that?"

"You've been in the paper. I've – I've seen your picture."

"Oh. Right. Of course. Tend to forget about that aspect of things."

Clara gestured to his phone. "Is that the case –"

"I can't really discuss an open investigation," John interrupted with a small smile. "At least not in such a public place."

Clara gave a quick shake of her head. "Yeah, of course. I'm just sticking my nose where I shouldn't."

John laughed. "That's all right." He hesitated, and then took a breath, deciding to just take the plunge. "Maybe, if you wanted –"

"Clara!"

Clara jumped. "Oh! Customers! I have to –"

"No, yeah, of course, you're working. I'm sorry."

Clara flashed him a smile and hurried off to take care of her tables, and John shook his head at himself. A knack with women was something he most definitely did not have.

 

Donna let herself into John's flat later that night and smirked to herself as she closed the door.

"Blimey, that takeout smells delicious," she called, shrugging off her coat.

"Oi!" John called back. "It's not takeout and you know it."

"You're so easy to wind up," Donna said as she stepped into the kitchen, where John was standing in front of the stove, still half dressed from work, sleeves pushed to his elbows as he poked at something on the stove.

"Look, I don't cook very often, so when I do, I expect it to be appreciated," John replied, raising his eyebrows as he gestured at her with a wooden spoon.

"I hold all judgments until I taste it," Donna said, pulling open the refrigerator and reaching inside for a beer. John asked her to grab him one too, and she obliged, popping the top off and handing it to him as she leaned against the counter.

"So," she said after throwing back a swallow. "How's the case going?"

John groaned. "I really don't want to talk about work tonight."

"Really? Because the papers spread across the coffee table might suggest otherwise."

"Those are a permanent fixture," John grumbled.

Donna smirked. "Okay, then how's it going with Clara?"

"What do you mean?" John asked, maybe a little too quickly.

"Please, John, you act like I don't know you, and you're as transparent as a sheet of glass. You have two good suits, and you're wearing one of them right now."

John frowned down at his white button up shirt and navy trousers. "How can you tell?"

"Trust me, I can tell. And I'm gonna guess that you've had lunch at that chip shop every week since we ate there."

John was silent for a moment, staring intently at the pan in front of him, and then he sighed.

"Yes, fine, I like her. I'm thinking of asking if she wants to be my date to that benefit I have to go to."

Donna looked skeptical. "First date at a fancy dress party? Seems a bit much to me."

"Well, at least that way, if we end up being totally incompatible, she can leave with someone else."

"Fair point there," Donna replied with a snort.

While they ate dinner, John listened to Donna gossip about the people in her office, finding it a welcome respite from thinking about his cases, or worrying about whether or not Clara might laugh in his face when he asked her to be his date.

As they started to clear the table, he glanced at the clock and quickly set his plate down.

"I'll be right back; I have to go see if Amy's awake."

"What?" Donna laughed.

"I'll explain when I get back," John said, waving his hand as he darted from the flat.

Donna shook her head, still laughing as she picked up John's plate to carry it into the kitchen along with hers, and then moved into the living room to settle on the couch. The documents scattered on the coffee table were too much for her to ignore, and she leaned forward, telling herself that glancing over the papers wouldn't hurt anything.

It was the Impossible Wolf file, and Donna shifted forward on the couch, her curiosity piqued even more. There were some pages covered in John's familiar scrawl, and Donna didn't see anything there that she didn't already know, but on the far end of the table were some more pages with handwriting Donna didn't recognize, and she scooted along the couch to peer at them.

Her eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at, notes from the Impossible Wolf thief – _or thieves_ , she thought, noticing two different handwriting styles on the notes – and she read what she could without touching the papers.

There wasn't anything terribly revealing in the notes themselves, and Donna could see why the police had kept them out of the press, but it was still intriguing to see this new angle. She thought it was curious that the notes were specifically addressed to John, but supposed that the thieves read the paper just like everyone else and knew he was the one in charge of the case.

Hearing the door to Amy and Rory's flat thud closed, Donna sat back on the couch as John came back inside, and raised her eyebrows.

"So, was Amy awake?"

"Yeah," John said with a laugh. "Her mum had Melody today, and Amy said she was going to try to write, but it was just as likely that she'd end up sleeping half the day, so she just wanted me to check on her before her mum brought Mel back."

"I hope she did take a nap," Donna said, eyebrows still raised. "Catch up on some of that 'stuck home with a baby' lost sleep."

"I don't think she considers herself 'stuck'," John countered as he settled beside Donna on the couch.

"Yet."

John snorted and shook his head as he asked if Donna wanted to stick around for a movie. She agreed, and watched as he shuffled together the Impossible Wolf file before standing to put it somewhere else.

 

Two days later, just before lunch time, John settled at his desk, turning on his computer before leaning back in his chair with his daily copy of _The Guardian_ in his hands. He'd had several things to do that morning, and was only just now getting a chance to sit. He flipped through the pages, scanning a few headlines, and then stopped on the headline _Impossible Wolf: Gone quiet?_

Smirking, he started to read it, thinking Donna's editor had ordered her to write something to keep public interest up, given that it had been several weeks since there had been a robbery.

_The thieves, suspected to be two women –_

John's smile disappeared like a switch had been flipped, and he sat up in his seat, staring at the sentence. The notes the thieves left were the only suggestion that they were women, and the existence of the notes was not something that had been released to the public, nor the press.

A sinking feeling settled in John's stomach, and before he could figure out what to do, he heard Martha calling his name, and looked up to see her eyeing him sternly. He didn't need any more incentive than that to stand and walk to her office.

"Did you tell Donna about the notes?" Martha said the moment John closed the office door.

"No, ma'am, I don't –"

"Then you left your copies of the case file lying around your flat."

John opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it, knowing he couldn't refute this, and knowing that Donna must have looked at them when she was over for dinner on Tuesday night.

Martha heaved a sigh. "You know I'm not the biggest fan of your best mate being a bloody reporter, but for the love of God, John, you don't leave sensitive case information lying around when you have her ‘round for tea!"

"Yes, ma'am. This is entirely on me, and I accept that, and I apologize. And if you don't mind, I'm going to be out of the office for a bit."

Martha gave a nod, and as John stepped from the office, heard her say, "Give her hell."

When John arrived at the offices of the newspaper, he headed straight to Donna's department, and found her at her desk.

"John?"

"'Suspected to be two women'?" John said in a low voice. "Where did you get that from?"

"I – didn't you tell me?"

"No, Donna, I didn't tell you, because it was an unreleased detail," John hissed. "You went through the copies of the file when you were at my flat, didn't you?"

"I didn't go _through_ them, I just – looked at them," Donna said with a shrug as she pushed to stand. "You left them out."

"Forgive me for thinking I could trust you to leave them alone!" John replied incredulously, struggling to keep his voice down.

Other people were beginning to look their way, and Donna grabbed John's arm to lead him into an empty conference room.

"It's just speculation, John, it doesn't mean anything. I didn't mention the actual notes –"

"That's not the point!" John exclaimed. "You betrayed my trust, and could have potentially compromised this entire case!"

Donna huffed, folding her arms over her chest, and John shook his head as he turned away, one hand on his hip while he raked the other through his hair.

"Do you ever _think_ , Donna?" he snapped, whirling to face her. "Or do you just always chase the next big story, no matter what, or who, you have to stomp on to get there?"

"Okay, maybe I shouldn't have looked," Donna said heatedly. "But maybe you shouldn't leave that kind of stuff just lying about the place."

"Maybe so. But it was on you to be respectful, and to keep your nose out of somewhere it didn't belong, and you didn't. Apparently a story is more important to you than our friendship."

"John, that's not –" Donna started, but he didn't let her finish, brushing past her and striding from the room.

Too keyed up to go back to work, John headed for the chip shop. It was lunch time anyway, and he needed time to settle down.

Clara was working, and looked surprised to see him, but led him to a table in her section.

"Have I got the day wrong?" she said with a quick laugh.

"No, I'm just – not having the best day," John said, flashing a tight smile.

"You want the usual?"

"Yeah, but first, I want to ask you something."

"Okay," Clara murmured, looking a little anxious.

"Have a seat, just for a second."

Clara obliged, pulling out the chair next to him and perching on the edge.

"There's a benefit next weekend, next Saturday night, that I'm going to, and I wanted to ask if you would maybe want to be my plus one."

Clara's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing pink, and she looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

"John, I would really love to, but I – I already have plans for next Saturday night, and they're kind of, um, binding."

"Right, of course," John said, feeling foolish as he looked down at the table.

"But – if it's all right, I have a friend, she loves going to those types of things, and she's really lovely, I think you'd like her. If you wanted to take her. I can ask her, and let you know when you come in on Tuesday."

John considered this a moment. He didn't think he'd like this other girl as much as he liked Clara, but maybe they'd still hit it off as friends, and it'd give him a chance to get closer to Clara, even if it was in a roundabout sort of way.

"Okay, sure," he said finally.

"Great!" Clara said happily. "And listen, maybe you and I can do something some other time?"

John smiled and nodded, his confidence bolstered. "Yeah, definitely."

"Great," Clara said again, her voice softer this time as she smiled. There was a beat, and then she laughed quietly. "I should go put your order in."

"Yeah, of course," John replied, laughing too. Clara stood and started to walk away, but John called after her, "Wait, what's your friend's name?"

"Rose," Clara replied, still smiling. "I think you'll really like her."


	4. Chapter 4

"Clara, you know I _hate_ those things!"

It was Saturday morning, and due to conflicting schedules, Clara hadn't yet had a chance to tell Rose about offering her as John's date since Thursday.

"I know, but it won't be so bad," Clara said, following Rose from the kitchen. "He's really nice, and maybe you'll even be able to get him to tell you some stuff about the case."

"So, what, I'm supposed to pump him for information?"

"No!" Clara said quickly, and then tipped her head to the side. "Well, not exactly. You'll just be distracting him while I'm doing what I have to do."

Rose shook her head. "I can't do it. I'm not gonna be able to – to make small talk and drink champagne while worrying about you. Especially not with the man who wants to _arrest_ us!"

"He has no idea. That much I know. He's been coming into the chip shop for a month now, and has no idea who I am. I'm just a waitress who he has a crush on."

Rose sighed and moved to drop onto the couch. "I don't know. I don't have a dress; I don't even know how to dance."

"We'll buy you a dress," Clara said, coming to settle beside Rose. "And he's a cop. He probably doesn't know how to dance either."

Rose gave a short laugh, and turned her head to look at Clara. "You really think I can do it?"

"I know you can," Clara replied, smiling as she reached for Rose's hand.

 

The following Saturday night, John was walking down the sidewalk to the house where the benefit was being held, self consciously touching his bowtie. Donna had bullied him into buying a good tuxedo years ago, and though he rarely wore it, it came in handy when he needed it.

Given that he was still somewhat angry with Donna for reading his notes, Amy had helped him with his finishing touches, tying his tie and brushing her hands over his shoulders. She stood back to check him over, and then reached up to flick a piece of hair from his forehead.

"Doesn't it ever stay put?" she asked, frowning when it flopped right back where it had been.

"Nope," he replied, and held up his arms so she could check the buttons on his sleeves.

Cars were lined up on the road beside him, waiting to expel their passengers in their gowns and tuxes, but John had taken the Tube, and knew Rose would be waiting for him here.

Clara had told him that she was small, blonde, and very pretty, and would be wearing a pink dress, so John figured she'd be pretty easy to spot.

As he approached the house, he didn't see Rose on this side of the people making their way inside, so he figured she was on the other side, and made his way through the small crowd, sighing when he was finally through. He straightened his jacket as he looked up, and then froze in place.

A few paces ahead of him stood a blonde in a sparkling pink dress, her expression somewhat nervous as she stared around, presumably looking for him. He knew he needed to approach her, but he couldn't stop staring at her.

Clara had undersold her; Rose wasn't just pretty, she was _gorgeous_. Her hair was in curls, swept over one shoulder, and her dress had a loose draped neckline. From what he could tell, the back was the same, just dipped a bit lower, though not enough to be indecent, and though he was sure she was as anxious as he was, she fit right in.

Finally, he took a breath and started forward, and smiled when she looked at him.

"Rose, right?" he said when he was in front of her.

"Yeah, and you must be John."

They shook hands, and now that he was closer, John could see the thin glittering straps of her dress, and her jewelry, a delicate necklace and small sparkling studs in her ears.

"They're not real diamonds," she said, her hand rising to fiddle with the pendant on her chest. "D'you think it's obvious?"

"I can't tell," John said with a shrug, and then grinned a little. "But then again, I'm not exactly an expert on these things."

Rose laughed softly, and took a deep breath. "I don't know what Clara told you, but I'm not a big fan of these kinds of things."

"Well, neither am I, so we can suffer together. But, if it helps, you look beautiful."

Rose gave a tentative smile. "Yeah? I brought this shawl thing, just in case –"

"I don't think you'll need it. I saw lots of bare shoulders when I was making my way through the crowd, looking for you." Rose laughed again, and John held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Rose nodded, flashing him a full, brilliant smile as she hooked her arm in his, and he felt a little breathless as they started towards the crowd.

After showing his invitation to confirm they were allowed to be there, he and Rose moved through the doors and then off to the side, out of the way to stare around the massive house.

"Someone actually _lives_ here," Rose muttered. "Who even needs all this space?"

"Got me," John replied. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved," Rose said, her gaze dropping from the ceiling as she pushed on her toes to try to see over the heads of the other partygoers. "Clara told me there'd be food. Money like this, it ought to be good."

"I'm sure it is; we just have to find it."

"We're in the main ballroom, so the dining room should be over there."

John looked down at Rose, eyebrows raised in surprise, and she stared back somewhat sheepishly.

"Er, I'm guessing. C'mon."

They made their way through the crowd arm-in-arm, and when they reached the dining room, Rose glanced towards the kitchen and saw Clara peeking out. Clara raised her eyebrows, holding up her hand in a small thumbs-up, and Rose nodded, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling too big.

Clara grinned back and disappeared into the kitchen so that John wouldn't see her. She'd been rather blindsided when he asked her to be his date to this thing, not because she didn't want to go, but because she'd had no idea he was going to be here at all. She and Rose had been planning this heist for weeks, ever since they found out about the benefit, and Clara just hoped that everything would go okay. She'd never robbed a house when anybody had been home, much less when there'd been a party going on, and nerves had her heart tapping an anxious rhythm against her ribs.

The plan was clear in her mind: wait until after dinner was over, use the staircase in the kitchen to go up to the second floor and take what she wanted, and then get out from the second story balcony. It should be fairly easy, she figured, since all of the guests would be in the ballroom, dancing or whatever it was they were going to be doing, and the rest of the wait staff would be scattered for their breaks before they had to start cleaning up. Nobody would notice her absence, and nobody would be upstairs to catch her.

John being here put a slight kink in things, but as long as Rose could keep him distracted, Clara thought this would all still go off as planned.

In the dining room, John and Rose were loading up their plates from the buffet set up around the room.

"I bet whatever's left over is just going to get thrown out," Rose said with a sigh as she stared at all the trays of food.

"Too bad you didn't bring a bigger purse," John replied, raising his eyebrows. "We could smuggle some of it out."

Rose giggled and shook her head, and when they were done, they found an empty table to sit.

"Drinks," John said after he set his plate down. "What would you like?"

"A pint?" Rose said hopefully.

"A pint does sound good," John replied with a laugh. "If not that, though, what else?"

"Wine'll do, I suppose. Red."

John gave a nod and headed for the bar, and returned a few minutes later with a glass of beer in each hand.

"Ah, lovely," Rose said happily as she accepted hers and took a sip.

John smiled as he settled beside her, and they fell silent as they started on their meals.

"So, um, how do you and Clara know each other?" John asked after a minute, looking over at Rose.

"Oh, we both work at the same chip shop."

"Really? I don't think I've ever seen you there."

"You come in on Tuesdays, yeah?" John nodded, and Rose smiled. "That's my day off. I take classes two days a week, and Tuesday is one of them."

"That explains it, then," John said with a laugh. "What are you studying, if I can ask?"

"Nothing specific right now," Rose replied with a shrug. "I just like learning."

"Good a reason as any."

"So, how did you get an invitation to this thing, anyway? No offense," Rose added, laughing when John did, "but you don't really seem like the type."

"No, you're right about that. It happens kind of randomly sometimes, when officers or detectives have done things, maybe a high profile case or something, they'll get an invitation to something like this. I suppose my work on the Impossible Wolf case is what got me here."

Rose cleared her throat as she shifted in her seat. "Right, yeah, that makes sense."

"Probably just want to yell at me for not catching them yet," John muttered, making Rose laugh softly.

They chatted while they ate, making small talk, and when they were done, stood to make their way around the house, gossiping and laughing about the house's décor and the other guests.

Rose's anxiety seemed to be melting away, and the more they talked, the more John liked her. It wasn't in the same way he liked Clara; for some reason, this felt deeper, and though he didn't understand it, he found himself wanting the night to go on as long as possible, if only so he wouldn't have to say goodnight to Rose.

When dinner officially ended, the host of the benefit made a speech, thanking everybody for attending, and for their donations.

"One night of the whole year where they can pretend they actually care about people less privileged than they are," Rose muttered.

John glanced at her curiously, but didn't respond. He didn't disagree with her, but found it interesting how often she'd expressed distaste in the wealth and opulence that surrounded them.

As the night wore on, John was subjected to some lighthearted ribbing about not yet having caught Impossible Wolf, and though he laughed it off, after the fourth person, he was starting to run out of patience. Rose seemed to notice, and once the person had walked off, dragged John onto the dance floor.

"I'm not the best dancer," he muttered.

"Neither am I, but maybe it'll make people leave you alone for a while."

"Good plan," John replied with a low laugh.

They began to dance, swaying together off to the side, trying to stay out of the way of those making a much better effort. Past John's arm, Rose could see Clara in the doorway of the dining room; the girls locked eyes, and Clara held up her fingers in a signal.

_20 minutes, and we're gone._

Rose gave a vague nod, and looked back up at John. There was an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, something that felt a lot like guilt. It wasn't guilt over what she and Clara were doing, but guilt over the stress it was putting on John. Now that she'd met him, she could see that he was a kind, down-to-Earth person who was just trying to do his job, and she and Clara were proving to be nothing more than a thorn in his side. She knew what these people were like, and knew that he likely faced more abuse than he deserved, or was even warranted, over a few missing pieces of jewelry.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"What for?" John asked.

"I just – feel bad for the way these people treat you over a few stolen pieces of jewelry that they can turn around and easily replace."

John shrugged. "It's all part of the job."

"Doesn't make it right," Rose said softly.

John stared down at Rose, neither of them aware they had stopped dancing, and felt something flip in his stomach as he swallowed hard. Rose stared back at him, and then her gaze flitted from his face, drawn to something behind him. He started to look, but her hand rose to his face, and to his monumental surprise, she pressed her lips to his. He hesitated for only a split second before he kissed her back, his hand sliding under her hair to rest on the curve of her neck, his other arm snaking around her waist as she pressed closer to him.

When the kiss broke, they both took a breath, and he looked at her, seeing her creased brow and parted lips.

"Rose –" he began, but she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"No, hey, it's okay," he said reassuringly, his hand dropping to her shoulder. "More than okay, really."

He gave a crooked smile, but Rose just shook her head again as she backed away from him.

"No, it wasn't – I mean, I shouldn't – I have –"

John stared at her, vaguely alarmed at her stammering and the distressed look on her face, and stepped towards her, his hand rising to her arm again.

"Hey, Rose, it's okay –"

Rose's gaze flicked to the staircase, and then back to his face, and she shook her head once more.

"I should – I have to go."

"No, hey, wait," John said, chasing after her as she turned away from him. "Rose, wait –"

They reached the door, and he started to say her name again when he was cut off by a sudden loud cry from upstairs.

"Thief!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and everybody looked up at the second floor landing as a woman came rushing into view.

"Someone was just upstairs," she explained breathlessly. "I'm positive they stole something. Probably that Impossible Wolf person!"

John could feel eyes on him, and he turned towards Rose, but she was gone. He scanned the front lawn, looking for a flash of blonde hair, or a sparkle of her pink dress, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Taking a breath, he turned around again, and reached into his inside jacket pocket for his identification as he started for the stairs.

 

"Clara?" Rose called as she pushed into their flat.

"In here," Clara responded from the bedroom, and Rose rushed into the room.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're all right," Rose breathed, pulling Clara into a tight hug.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm fine," Clara said, squeezing her back. "She didn't really see me. I mean, she saw me, but not my face or anything. She came in just as I was leaving, so she just saw me climbing out the window."

"You're sure?" Rose asked as they pulled apart.

"Yeah. We're good. Get changed, our train's in an hour."

Rose nodded, and moved into the bathroom.

An hour later, they were settled in their seats on the train to Paris, and Clara smiled as she looked over at Rose.

"So, what was it like dancing with DI Smith?"

Rose shrugged. "It was nice. He's really nice."

"And what was it like _kissing_ DI Smith?"

Rose looked up sharply, and was relieved to see amusement on Clara's face.

"I – I only did that to distract him, he almost saw you." She paused a moment, fiddling with the hem of her sweater, and then shrugged again. "Felt kind of bad just leaving like that."

"Yeah, things didn't quite go according to plan, but it still worked out."

"Yeah," Rose murmured.

When they arrived in Paris just before midnight, they went to their hotel to check in, and then up to their room to change for bed.

"So," Clara said as she climbed into bed beside Rose, "we'll check the news in the morning, and if the robbery isn't being covered here, we'll go sell the stuff, and then have a nice day in Paris before we head back to London."

Rose nodded, and Clara frowned lightly as she looked at her.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Rose replied with a small smile. "Just tired."

"It's been a long day," Clara said as she switched off her lamp and moved close to Rose. "We'll sleep in, and things'll be better in the morning."

Rose nodded, lips curved in another small smile as Clara kissed her, and sighed as she shifted to get more comfortable.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose woke up early the next morning, and turned her head to look at Clara. She was still asleep, burrowed under the covers, and Rose allowed herself a smile as she looked at her girlfriend. She didn't blame Clara for being exhausted, given the events of the previous evening, and under normal circumstances, Rose would still be asleep too, but something was different.

With a soft sigh, Rose carefully got out of bed and shuffled over to peek through the curtains on the window. It was a rainy day, probably cold too, which would serve them well when they went out to sell the jewelry later; they could bundle up, and nobody would likely give either of them a second glance.

Rose moved to grab her phone from the bedside table and stepped back over to the window to settle in the chair there as she tapped her screen a few times, pulling up the local news. She could read French well enough, and saw nothing about a robbery in London the night before, which likely meant that the police assumed the jewelry hadn't left the country, and that the story wasn't big enough to break internationally. Even if the story did make its way to Paris, it would be long after Rose and Clara had already sold the jewelry and left, and by then, it was incredibly unlikely that anybody would remember either of them.

In that respect, they were safe, but Rose's heart was troubled. When she and Clara had started on their little crime spree, it had mostly been for a laugh, just teaching some rude rich people a lesson about the way they treated those they deemed 'beneath' them. The longer they did it, the better they got, teaching themselves to pick locks and crack safes, posing as maids and wait staff to learn the layouts of the houses they picked, eavesdropping on phone calls and conversations. It was amazing what people talked about in front of the hired help; Rose could be cleaning out an oven or wiping down the windows, and hear every single detail about their target's upcoming trip out of the country.

When the papers started reporting on their crimes, the girls had felt a thrill; it was like being famous, even if nobody knew who they actually were. The name Impossible Wolf had been random, a combination of one of the articles describing the robbery as "impossible" and a documentary about wolves that Clara had seen, describing wolves as stealthy hunters. She'd suggested they use the singular 'wolf' instead of 'wolves' to throw people off and make them think it was just one person instead of two.

The notes had been Rose's idea, thinking they should give a reason why a specific person had been targeted, in hopes that they might learn their lesson. She'd been the one to write them at first, but along the way, they decided that whoever did the robbery should write the note. They were careful to never leave fingerprints, and Rose had even worn gloves when she bought the box of note cards, explaining to the befuddled cashier that she was a bit of a germaphobe.

When they saw the first picture of DI Smith in the paper, they'd giggled together over how cute he was, but Rose never thought they'd get this close to him. Clara had been flirting with him for weeks, and now Rose had been his date to the benefit the night before. Not only that, she had kissed him, and no matter what she told Clara, it hadn't entirely been to distract him.

Despite Clara saying he was a nice guy, Rose had still been uncertain about how she might get along with him, but she hadn't expected to like him as much as she did, or that she would be unable to stop thinking about him now. She couldn't explain it, but there had been a connection between them, and it troubled her because she didn't understand what it meant.

Having feelings for DI Smith was dangerous, because if they got too close to him, he would figure out who they were, and there was nothing that suggested he wouldn't hesitate to arrest them both right on the spot.

That thought still wasn't enough to get him off Rose's mind, and she sighed, resting her elbow on the arm rest and her chin in her hand as she stared out the window.

Clara awoke a couple of hours later, and sat up in bed, frowning at Rose.

"Hey. How long have you been up?"

"A while," Rose replied, running a hand through her hair. "Couldn't really sleep."

"Still thinking about John?" Clara asked, lips curving as she tossed the covers aside. "He is cute. You know, we could ask him –"

"I don't think that'd be such a good idea," Rose interrupted, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, it's a nice _idea_ , just might not be wise in actual practice," Clara said with a grin.

Rose smiled and shook her head as Clara wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Breakfast?" she murmured. "Tea and a pastry before we get business out of the way?"

Rose nodded. "Sure."

They got dressed and headed down to the small café they liked, getting their food to go before hurrying back up to their room to decide which stores they wanted to sell to.  
Clara always sold the jewelry, as Rose tended to get a bit flustered and tongue-tied, so they figured out what she would wear, deciding that she didn't need to disguise herself too much, since the cold and the rain already meant she'd be bundled up. Heeled boots added a few inches to her height, while some extra clothing changed her body shape, and they did her hair and makeup to give her the appearance of being very well-off.

"So, how do I look?" Clara asked when they were finished.

"Like someone we'd rob," Rose replied with raised eyebrows.

"Mission accomplished, then," Clara said as she reached for her gloves, and then the handbag which contained the jewelry. "Thank god for the weather. Right then. I'll see you for lunch."

"Good luck, and be careful," Rose said, touching a light kiss to Clara's lips. "And call or text me if there's trouble."

Clara nodded, and flashed Rose a smile before leaving the hotel room.

While Clara looked like a socialite, Rose was going for a student look, dressed simply in trainers, jeans, and a hoodie. The backpack on the bed completed the look, and Rose checked it over one more time, making sure everything Clara would need was inside, and then lifted it onto her shoulders as she left the room.

It seemed even wetter and colder outside than it had earlier that morning, and Rose grimaced a little as she started down the sidewalk. She couldn't wait to drop off the backpack and then spend some time in her favorite used bookstore until it was time to meet Clara.

Maybe she and Clara could holiday somewhere nice and tropical and warm soon.

Rose spent a good while in the used bookstore, happily perusing the titles and buying a couple, and then left to meet Clara, who showed up now dressed similarly to Rose.

"I'm guessing it went okay?" Rose asked as Clara settled across from her at the table.

"Yep," Clara replied. "Nice addition to our savings."

They smiled at each other, and set about deciding what they wanted for lunch.

When they returned to their hotel room, Clara started kissing Rose the moment the door closed behind them, making Rose giggle as she looped her arms around Clara's neck. It was always like this after a successful heist, the rush of their hard work paying off sparking an intense desire for each other, and Rose allowed Clara to guide her back towards the bed.

They removed clothing between kisses, and though Rose was normally intently focused on Clara, her mind kept wandering in random bursts of images. Clara's lips on her neck were suddenly John's, Clara's hands smoothing Rose's hair back after tugging her shirt off were John's hands, and a frown fluttered over Rose's brow as Clara pushed her down onto the bed.

It didn't make sense for him to be on her mind this much, not after one pseudo date, but the moan that escaped her throat when Clara pushed her fingers inside of her was only partly because of Clara, and partly because of the thought of John's long fingers deep inside of her, and as her hands grasped at the sheets, conflict tugged at her heart.

 

While Rose and Clara were enjoying each other in Paris, John was at his desk in Islington, head propped against his fist as he filled out paperwork.

When he reached the end of the page, he threw his pen down on his desk and ran his hands down his face as he sat back in his chair. He was tired, and beyond frustrated.

The theft the night before had effectively shut down the benefit, and he'd spent the rest of the evening interviewing everybody who was still there. This morning had been spent with Mickey, tracking down those who had left early, and predictably, nobody had seen anything or anybody that seemed suspicious.

The only person who had seen anything at all was the woman who had raised the alarm, and all she could offer was that the person had been slim and small, and dressed all in black.

Not far from John's mind was the fact that his own date had disappeared rather suddenly, and, he had to admit, somewhat suspiciously, but he had no idea how to track her down. He didn't know where she lived, he didn't even know her last name, and though he supposed he could go to the chip shop to find out, now that he knew she worked with Clara, something kept him from doing that.

A copy of the note that had been left was on his desk, and he sat up to grab it, sitting back once more as he stared at the note. There was one line that stood out to him – _We hope you enjoyed your party, the one night of the year where you can pretend to care about those less fortunate than you._ – because it echoed almost perfectly what Rose had said when the host of the benefit had made her speech.

The strand of blonde hair from the Stein robbery flashed through his mind again, screaming at him to make the connection, and he sighed as he sat up again. He needed to get out of here; the rest of the paperwork could wait until Monday. He put the file back together, locked it in his desk, and grabbed his jacket as he left the station.

It was only when he was back in his flat that he felt like he could breathe again, and he closed the door behind him, keeping his hand pressed against it for a long moment.

The thing was that he'd already begun to make the connection. The blonde hair, Rose's distaste at the wealth and privilege that had surrounded them at the benefit, and her abrupt disappearance right when the robbery had been discovered all pointed to what seemed like an obvious conclusion.

Rose was part of Impossible Wolf.

But who was her partner? That was one connection that still eluded him, though the most obvious person, at least at the present, would be Clara. He didn't know how close she and Rose were, but given how quickly Clara suggested   
Rose as his date to the benefit, he would guess they were more than just acquaintances.

When it came down to it, though, he had nothing on Clara besides the fact that she knew Rose, and had something of a keen interest in the Impossible Wolf case, but many people were interested in it too, and that alone didn't mean anything.

Still, his gut was telling him Rose and Clara, Clara and Rose. He didn't want to say it out loud, even in the silence of his empty flat, but he was almost certain he had finally figured out the identity of Impossible Wolf.

 

Monday night, Rose and Clara were leaving the chip shop with Rory, who had come in for a late dinner on the way home from the hospital. The girls were familiar and friendly with him, though the friendship didn't extend beyond his irregular visits to the chip shop. He usually came in after his night shifts so as not to disturb Amy or the baby when he got home, and he explained to Rose once that stopping for dinner meant he could go straight to bed when he got home.

It was raining as the three of them stepped outside, and Rose groaned as she tugged her coat tighter around her.

"Bloody freezing," she muttered.

"Come on," Clara said as she started down the sidewalk. "Quicker we get home, quicker we get dry. Night, Rory!"

"Night, you two. Be careful –"

No sooner had the words left his mouth that Clara suddenly cried out and pitched to the side before dropping to the sidewalk.

"Clara!" Rose exclaimed, hurrying forward, Rory close behind her.

"There was something on the sidewalk," Clara gasped as she sat up. "I rolled my ankle."

"Can you stand?" Rory asked.

"I think so," Clara murmured, gathering her legs under her, but the moment she tried to push to her feet, she cried out again and fell against Rory.

"Okay, you should get to A&E –"

"No," Clara protested. "It's not that bad, and I don't want to sit there all night."

"Clara, you can't even stand on your own," Rose said, her eyebrows knitted together.

"I'm fine, just help me up."

Rory and Rose each took an arm and pulled Clara to her feet, but the moment she put weight on her injured ankle, she gave a pained whimper, and Rory shook his head.

"Okay, if you won't go to A&E, I'm taking you to my flat. I can at least look at it there and get some ice on it."

"Fine," Clara sighed, and allowed Rory and Rose to lead her to Rory's car.

A short while later, they all stepped into Amy and Rory's flat, Rory's arm tight around Clara's waist as he guided her inside, followed closely by Rose.

Amy rushed from the bedroom, her eyes wide as she looked at the three of them.

"What happened?"

"Clara twisted her ankle," Rory replied as he and Clara moved slowly towards the couch. "She won't go to A&E, so I wanted to at least take a look at it here."

Amy held up her hands. "Oh, but wait – Clara, I'm sorry, but you're soaked, just let me get a towel."

Clara laughed. "No, it's fine, I get it."

Amy hurried from the room, and returned a moment later with a stack of towels in her arms, which she set down on the coffee table before taking one to spread over the couch cushions. Rory continued forward with Clara and helped her settle on the couch while Amy handed another towel to Clara, and then one to Rose, so they could dry off a bit.

"I'll make some tea," Amy murmured as Rory moved into the bedroom to change out of his wet clothes. He returned a couple of minutes later, dry now and with a pillow in his hands that he carefully placed under Clara's hurt ankle.

"Right then, let's see," he said as he sank down onto the coffee table. He inspected Clara's ankle, taking it in his hands and gently prodding with his fingers, apologizing softly when she gasped in pain.

"Well, I'm no doctor," he said finally, "but I'd say it's a sprain. I still think you should have an x-ray done."

Clara sighed, lifting her hand to her forehead as her head fell back against the arm rest. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Clara –"

"Rory, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I am tired, and I do not want to sit in A&E all bloody night for some doctor to tell me the same thing you just did. I just want to go home and sleep."

Rory sighed too as he stood. "Fine. But you're not leaving until I wrap your ankle, and we ice it for a little while."

"Okay, okay," Clara agreed, shifting to sit up a little bit more as Rory moved into the bathroom and Rose brought over a mug of tea. Clara thanked her with a smile, and Rose smiled back as she settled on the coffee table.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah, but not too bad. I think exhaustion is dulling the pain."

Rose laughed softly, just as there was a tap on the front door.

"Amy? Rory?" a male voice said. "Is everything all right?"

Amy hurried to open the door, and Clara's eyes widened. Rose frowned at Clara's expression and turned to see who was at the door, and her own eyes widened when she saw John step inside.

"I heard commotion and lots of voices," he said, frowning in concern. "I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Yeah, we're fine," Amy replied. "Clara just twisted her ankle, so Rory brought her here to check her out."

"Clara?" John repeated, his frown deepening as he looked towards the couch.

"Hi," Clara said, flashing a vague smile as she lifted her hand in a wave.

"And Rose," he continued as he stepped forward.

"Hey," Rose replied softly.

Rory returned then, greeting John as he moved back over to the couch to tend to Clara's ankle.

"All right?" John asked, his expression still concerned as he stepped closer.

"It's not too bad. Rory's just making a fuss."

Rory made a face, and Clara grinned.

"And you?" John asked, turning his gaze to Rose.

"Yeah. Er, I'm sorry about the other night. For what I did, and – and for leaving."

"Well, I won't arrest you for _that_ ," John said, somewhat pointedly.

Rose laughed lightly, though there was a bit of a nervous edge to it, and John looked at them a moment longer before starting for the door.

"I'll leave you alone now; I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Thanks, John," Amy said as she followed after him. "It's always a relief having you next door."

John flashed a smile at Amy, and glanced at Rose and Clara again as he left the flat, closing the door behind him.

"I guess you two know John from the chip shop too?" Amy asked.

"Yeah," Clara said, and then hissed in pain as Rory bumped her ankle while wrapping it.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Amy, could you get me a bag of ice, please?"

Amy headed into the kitchen, and returned a minute later with a bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel. Rory carefully laid it on Clara's ankle, and then handed her some pain killers.

"We'll leave the ice on for a few minutes, and then I'll take you guys home, since it's after midnight now."

"Thanks, Rory," Clara said. "I'm sorry I'm such a pain."

"Just promise me you'll get it looked at by an actual doctor, yeah?"

"Okay, I promise," Clara laughed, rolling her eyes as she sipped her tea.

After a while, Rory took the girls home, and they thanked him before heading inside as fast as Clara's ankle would allow.

"We're going to the hospital tomorrow, just so you know," Rose said as they stepped into their flat.

"All _right_ ," Clara said with a short laugh. "God, between you and Rory, you'd think I was gonna drop dead any minute."

"Well, Rory's just being a nurse. _I'm_ being your girlfriend who worries about you."

The corner of Clara's mouth lifted. "Just admit it; you won't love me anymore if I develop a permanent limp."

"Oh, yeah," Rose replied, nodding as she stepped closer to Clara. "That's it exactly."

Clara grinned, and Rose leaned in for a kiss, looping her arms around Clara's neck.

"How weird was it when John showed up?" Clara said when the kiss broke. "I wouldn't have guessed in a million years that he lived next door to Amy and Rory."

"Yeah," Rose murmured, her arms falling to her sides as Clara stepped over to her dresser to take out her pajamas.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked, frowning over at Rose.

Rose sighed as she moved to drop onto the foot of the bed. "Nothing. I don't know."

"You know, you were acting weird in Paris too. Is this about John?" Clara paused, and her frown deepened. "Do you _like_ him?"

"I don't know!" Rose said again, lifting her hands to cover her face. "I don't – I didn't expect to like him at all, I thought the benefit would be awful, but he was so nice, and so easy to talk to. I can't explain it, but I feel – _something_." Rose shook her head as she lifted her gaze to Clara's face. "And it's got nothing to do with you, or us. I still love you more than anything, I don't want to leave you for him, or anything like that. It's like – I want both of you."

Clara stared at Rose uncertainly. "All of this after one night with him?"

"I can't explain it, Clara. I just know what I feel." Rose raised her eyebrows. "You've known him longer than I have, you can't tell me you don't like him too."

Clara didn't immediately respond, her eyes on the clothes in her hands, and finally she sighed and limped over to the bed to settle beside Rose.

"I do. I've sort of been fighting it, trying not to get too close to him, but when he asked me to go to the benefit with him, I wished I could say yes. I look forward to him coming in every Tuesday, and I'm actually going to miss seeing him tomorrow."

Clara gave a quick laugh at that, and then shook her head.

"But if he finds out who we are, he's not going to want us, Rose. He's going to arrest us."

"Do you really think he will?" Rose asked softly.

Clara shrugged. "It's his job, and he seems like that type. You know, duty comes first, and all of that."

Rose nodded. "So what should we do?"

"Dunno. Even if we stopped tonight, it's not like he wouldn't still arrest us if he found out."

"I wasn't expecting this to happen."

"Me neither," Clara replied with quiet laugh. "We're not going to get anywhere with it tonight, though. I'm exhausted. Let's just go to bed."

Rose nodded, and Clara reached for her hand, giving her fingers a squeeze as she touched a soft kiss to Rose's cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

When John arrived at work the next morning, he turned on his computer and then promptly ignored it as he pulled out the Impossible Wolf file. It was embarrassingly thin, and he sighed as he pulled out the notes. He studied the latest one, left behind at benefit robbery, and then almost laughed; he recognized the handwriting as Clara's, and found it remarkable that he hadn't made that particular connection before now. He supposed it was simply because he hadn't even remotely suspected Clara could be involved until recently, but now he was looking at everything with a fresh perspective.

There were notes in Clara's handwriting, and then the others in what he assumed was Rose's handwriting, and he supposed that whoever actually committed the robbery was the one who wrote the note. He wondered how they decided who did which robbery, what they did with the jewelry, but most importantly, he wondered _why_ they did what they did.

Sitting here at his desk wouldn't give him any answers, and though he knew he ought to include Mickey, this investigation had taken a turn, and he was suddenly feeling strangely protective over both the case and the girls.

Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, he told Mickey he was leaving to run an errand, and made his way into the city. It felt strange coming to the chip shop when he knew – or at least assumed – Clara wouldn't be there, and he didn't intend to eat. It was too early for lunch anyway, but he could see people inside, and he assumed they were getting ready to open in a couple of hours.

A tap on the door drew the attention of a waitress John recognized, and he held up his badge as she approached.

"Clara's not in today, and –" the waitress began after opening the door, and John took a measured breath before flashing a smile.

"I need to speak with your manager, actually, if he's in. Won't take but a moment."

The waitress nodded and gestured for John to come inside as she headed for the back of the restaurant. A couple of minutes later, the manager emerged, smiling as he extended his hand for John to shake, and introducing himself as Liam.

"Bit early for fish and chips."

John gave a short laugh, and shook his head. "Here on official business, I'm afraid."

Liam's smile faded. "Is anybody in trouble?"

"No, nothing like that. Just two of your waitresses, Clara and her mate Rose, were witnesses to a crime, and in the all the frenzy, nobody got any information from them, and I just wanted a chance to interview them, get their statements."

"Clara won't be in today; she twisted her ankle up pretty bad last night, called this morning and said she and Rose were heading for the hospital."

"That's all right," John replied, feeling a hint of relief at the idea that Clara was getting her ankle properly looked at. "I just need their information so I can give them a call about getting their statements."

"Yeah, sure, just a mo'," Liam said, heading back to his office. He returned with a slip of paper bearing Rose and Clara's full names, phone numbers, and home addresses, which John noted was the same for both girls, indicating they lived together.

"Funny you call Rose Clara's mate, though," Liam said, sounding amused. "Bit more than mates."

"Is that so?" John replied, folding the paper and tucking it into his inside jacket pocket.

"Cutest couple I've ever seen."

"Right," John said with a quick laugh as he reached forward to shake Liam's hand again. "Thanks for your help."

Liam nodded, and moved to let John out of the restaurant. He headed down the sidewalk in long, angry strides, his jaw tense, and when he was in his car, he smacked the steering wheel with the heel of his hand before letting his head fall back against the seat.

"They're a bloody _couple_ ," he hissed. "Of course. This entire time, they've been _playing_ me." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm so stupid."

After taking a few seconds to marvel at his own idiocy, he started the car to head back to the station, where he settled at his desk and pulled up the program to run a background check. He entered Rose's name first, and his eyes skimmed over her details: Father deceased, mother still living, grew up on a council estate, didn't finish school. No prior arrests, and no fingerprints on file, which meant that even if she had left prints behind, there wouldn't have been anything to match them to.

Overall, she seemed rather benign, aside from the fact that she was most likely one half of a notorious pair of thieves, and John sighed as he entered in Clara's information. There weren't too many differences between her and Rose; they were the same age, and both had one deceased parent, though in Clara's case it was her mother. Clara's overall upbringing seemed somewhat better than Rose's; she had finished school and university, and John frowned. So why was she a waitress in a chip shop?

The answer was revealed to him as he scrolled down the page. She had been a teacher until a little over a year ago, and had lost her job when budget cuts had fallen hard and fast upon the school system.

John sat up straighter in his chair, rubbing his hand over his chin as he stared at the screen in front of him. This certainly provided a motive. Clara had lost what she had probably assumed was a steady job, because rich people decided they wanted to hoard just a little bit more of their money, so what better way to get back at them? In the grand scheme of things, a few pieces of jewelry didn't amount to much, but it was the inconvenience and the embarrassment that stuck, and John figured that's what Clara was really after.

As for Rose, he just figured that being Clara's girlfriend had brought her in, and he doubted she would say no to Clara, or to some extra money.

At the moment, though, he had nothing more than his suspicions, which wasn't enough to arrest them, or to even get a search warrant for their flat. He could certainly try to talk to them and get them to reveal something that would allow him to move forward with the case, but as had begun to happen with this case, he was growing more and more hesitant about wanting to arrest them.

If he was honest, he couldn't really blame them for what they were doing. Sure, it was illegal, but nobody was getting hurt, and he figured that a few thousand pounds' worth of stolen jewelry was inconsequential. The fact of the matter was that he really didn't care; he hadn't cared when he got the first call in this case, and he cared even less now. All this case had gotten him was a handful of entitled rich people whining about some stolen jewelry that they could go right back out and replace without batting an eyelash. It was irritating, thankless work, and he'd just as soon tell them all to bugger off and stop complaining when there were so many out there so much worse off than them.

More and more this case was also making him think of his mother. She had raised him by herself, working as a housekeeper for all of his childhood to support him and give him a decent life. Most of her employers had been much like some of the victims of these robberies, spoiled, entitled, looking down their nose at the people they thought were beneath them. When he was younger, his mother had to take him to work with her sometimes, and he'd learned very quickly how to stay still and quiet, usually reading on a small stool in a corner of the kitchen. He'd seen how these people talked to and treated his mother, and it had always baffled him, even from a young age, how someone could treat someone so horribly, while still expecting them to do work for them.

John went to university on the money his mother had set aside solely for that purpose, which had been supplemented by an act of kindness from one of her employers, a woman John's mother had worked for until they died and left her a fair sum of money in their will. John was grateful to the woman for thinking of his mother, who had been a loyal worker and trusted companion for several years, but at the same time, from his experience, he knew such acts were exceedingly rare.

His mother had been surprised when he decided to go into law enforcement, but he'd had a desire to want to help people, and in the beginning, had felt a sense of purpose, like he was doing what he was meant to do. Along the way, there had been promotions, and he'd been shunted from one department to another, wherever he was needed, and now, he was dealing with the same kind of people his mother had dealt with her whole working life up until the day she died, the same kind of people he'd grown to dislike.

So this left him with a case he needed to solve, but didn't want to, and two women who he couldn't deny his feelings for, despite the fact that they had very obviously deceived and used him. He had thought that Clara, and maybe even Rose, if her kiss was anything to go by, had feelings for him as well, but maybe it had just been part of their act. Something told him that it hadn't been, but what did that mean? They were already in a relationship with each other, so where would he fit into that?

"You goin' to lunch today?"

Mickey's voice startled John from his thoughts, and he quickly closed out the page with Clara's information before looking up at his partner.

"Sorry?"

"It's Tuesday, usually you've left for lunch by now."

"Oh, no. Don't really feel like heading into the city today."

"Lunch with me, then? My treat. Feel like we haven't spent a lot of time together lately."

"Yeah," John replied, pushing to stand. "Yeah, that sounds great. And sorry, I've just had a lot going on lately."

"That's all right," Mickey said as they started from the station. "But I reserve the right to change my mind and pass the bill to you when it comes."

"Fair enough," John laughed.

 

As the week progressed, John discovered that he was really starting to miss Clara, and when the following Tuesday rolled around, he headed for the chip shop in the hopes that she would be back at work.

His heart leapt when he stepped inside and saw her there, and she gave him a bright smile, though he could see a somewhat anxious edge to it.

"Missed you last week," she said, running the edge of the menu in her hand along her palm.

"Yeah, I missed you too," John replied, unable to keep from smiling a little, and then glanced down at her feet. "How's your ankle?"

"Well, Rory was right, it was sprained. Still hurts, and I've got this brace on it, but it's good enough to walk on, and I couldn't take too much time off work."

John nodded. "I'm glad it wasn't too serious."

"Yeah, me too," Clara said with a quiet laugh. "Are you, um, here to eat?"

"Yeah," John said quickly. "Last week just didn't feel right without my usual fix of fish and chips."

Clara laughed again, and nodded as she led him over to his usual table, walking a little slower than usual with a slight limp.

In spite of her injury, Clara still seemed as efficient and attentive as ever, but it apparently wasn't enough for the man at the table behind John, who complained every time Clara came by to check on him, mostly about how slow she was. John's jaw tensed every time she apologized, thinking she had nothing to be sorry for, and he told himself that the next time the man said something to her, John would have a few words of his own.

When Clara came by again, a large tray in her hands, she told John she'd be right back to refill his drink, and as she passed him by, he heard her give a sudden gasp. He looked around in time to see her ankle give and her knees buckle, and jumped out of his seat to grab her before she could hit the floor. He couldn't do anything about the tray, though, and turned away, his arms around Clara, as it crashed to the floor, sending food and bits of broken glass and porcelain everywhere, including on the shoes of the rude man.

"You stupid girl!" he exploded as he leapt to his feet. "Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost?"

"I'm sorry, sir –" Clara began, leaning heavily against John and looking somewhat overwhelmed.

"You know, I only came here because I heard the food was decent, but if I had known my waitress would be so incompetent –"

"Oh, shut up!" John snapped finally. "Can't you see she's injured, you idiot?"

The man opened his mouth to reply, but John turned away to help Clara into a chair at his table, just as Liam hurried from the back of the restaurant, asking what the problem was.

"Your stupid waitress dumped an entire tray of food on me –"

"She did no such thing!" John exclaimed as he spun around. "Her _sprained ankle_ clearly gave out, and she almost fell. She could've potentially hurt herself even worse, and all you care about are your bloody shoes!"

"You saw everything?" Liam asked, looking at John, who nodded.

"She's been doing her job exceptionally well, in spite of her injury, and all he's done since I've been here is berate her for being too slow."

Liam turned to look at Clara, and she nodded somewhat reluctantly.

The rude man looked incredibly irritated at being ignored like this, and drew himself to his full height.

"I demand –"

"I don't care about your demands," Liam said coldly. "You've harassed one of my best waitresses, and you'd do well to leave my shop right now."

The man sputtered for a moment, having clearly never been spoken to like that before, and then turned and stormed from the restaurant.

Clara sighed and started to stand. "I'll clean this up –"

"No," Liam said, pressing gently against her shoulder. "You sit. I'll get someone else to do it."

Clara obeyed, sighing again as she rested her elbow on the table and let her head fall against her hand.

"You all right?" John asked softly as he knelt in front of her and reached for her free hand.

"Yeah, just... sort of embarrassed."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault. You're clearly exhausted, so just sit and rest a bit, okay?"

Clara nodded, biting her lip as she gave a faint smile, and then she leaned forward, her free hand resting on his shoulder as she touched a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Thanks for catching me," she murmured when she pulled back, her cheeks flushing as she pressed her lips together.

John laughed quietly and squeezed her fingers; his face felt warm, and he wondered if he was blushing too. "Anytime."

They sat a moment, hands joined in Clara's lap, and then John stood when two busboys came out to clean up the mess on the floor. Another waitress came by to set a glass of water in front of Clara, and John smiled as he tugged his wallet from his pocket.

"I've got to get back, but look after her, yeah?"

The other waitress grinned and nodded, giving Clara's shoulder a squeeze before moving to check on the rest of her tables.

"Who knows," John murmured, dropping enough money down to cover his bill. "Maybe Impossible Wolf will take care of that man."

Clara looked up at him, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly, and he just smiled and said he'd see her later.

 

"He knows, Rose," Clara said when she got home later.

"What?" Rose replied with a startled look at Clara.

"John. He knows it's us."

"What do you mean?" Rose asked, setting her laptop aside as Clara came to sit next to her on the couch.

Clara explained what happened earlier, and shook her head when she got to the part about John leaving.

"He said, 'Maybe Impossible Wolf will take care of that man', with this really significant look, and all I can think is that he knows it's us."

"So – so what do we do?"

"I've been thinking about it all afternoon, and I think we should do one more robbery, that jerk from today, and then we leave town. Take all the money we have, and just go."

Rose shook her head, her eyebrows drawing together. "Leave town... You mean, like, permanently?"

"Yeah."

"Clara... What about my mum? Your dad? How can we just leave?"

"It's not like we'll never see them again. We'll just tell them we're taking a bit of an extended holiday. They know we've been saving up."

Rose worried her lip a moment, and then murmured, "What about John?"

Clara frowned. "What about him?"

"What about what we talked about? We both like him, we know he likes us. If he really knows who we are, how come he hasn't arrested us yet?"

"He doesn't have enough evidence –"

"But he _knows us_ , Clara. He could've tried to get us to admit to something, hell, he could've come by the flat and gotten something that way, but he hasn't. He knows it's us, and he's not doing anything about it. That has to mean something."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, maybe we invite him to come with us."

"Rose –"

"I've just got a feeling, Clara. You and me and him, it just feels right."

Clara still looked uncertain, and Rose raised her eyebrows.

"I've trusted you all this time. Please trust me now."

Clara considered Rose, anxiety and apprehension bubbling inside of her, but underneath it all was a desire to go with what Rose was saying, to bring John into their relationship and see what happened, and she finally nodded.

"Okay," she murmured, blowing out a slow breath. "Okay. We'll see if he wants to come with us."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy bits in this chapter ;)

Saturday night, John responded to a robbery call matching the Impossible Wolf MO. It seemed like odd timing, and he knew that Rose would've done this one, as Clara wouldn't have been able to move quickly enough if she had to. He thought back to the encounter earlier that week with Clara and the rude man in the chip shop, and found his curiosity piqued as he flashed his badge at the front door of the house, wondering if this would really be the same man.

The question was answered when he entered the kitchen and saw the man from earlier that week, looking as belligerent as ever. John wondered what the girls had taken; maybe his precious shoes.

"DI John Smith," he said, flashing his badge, and then gestured towards Mickey. "My partner, DS Mickey Smith."

"What are you, brothers?" the man said irritably.

"Not last I checked, sir," John replied dryly.

The man looked fully at John, and his eyes widened in recognition. "You! You were at that restaurant on Tuesday!"

"Yes, when you harassed that injured waitress." The man huffed, and John raised his eyebrows as he pulled his notepad from his inside jacket pocket. "Your name, sir?"

"Malcolm," the man replied grudgingly. "Malcolm Grey."

"Mr. Grey, why don't you tell me what happened tonight?"

"I came home a little after eight o'clock, and found the window in my bedroom was open. I know I didn't leave it open, because it was raining this morning."

John frowned as he jotted this down. It wasn't like them to leave such an obvious clue behind.

"And what was taken?"

"A pair of diamond cuff links, a diamond tie pin, and a diamond jewelry set – earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet – I bought for my girlfriend."

John tried not to show his surprise at the fact this man actually had a woman who could put up with him, and asked to be shown the bedroom. Malcolm led him upstairs, and showed him the box where he kept his cuff links and tie pins, showing very obvious empty spaces.

"The jewelry for my girlfriend I kept in a box in my bedside table, and they took the whole box."

John nodded absently, staring pensively around the room, and looked up at Malcolm when he made a scoffing noise.

"I bet it was that little twit from the restaurant."

"Oh, yes, I have no doubt that the girl with the hurt leg broke into your house to exact her revenge on you for being a jerk." Malcolm's face flushed, and John sighed. "If I could ask you to leave the room so I could look around."

Malcolm looked like he wanted to argue, but apparently decided it was better not to further annoy John, and left the room. Once he was alone, John moved over to the box that contained the cuff links and tie pins and lifted it, finding the white envelope with his name printed neatly on the front.

"Got a note?" Mickey asked.

"Mmhmm," John hummed, carefully teasing the flap open with his gloved finger. He pulled the note out and opened it, and caught a glimpse of something to do with an 'injured young waitress' before another, smaller slip of paper caught his eye.

Frowning, he opened it, and saw just two words: _Look outside._

He stood in place a moment, contemplating the short note, and then carefully eased it into his pocket before walking over to the window. He twitched the curtain aside to look down at the street, and saw Rose standing on the sidewalk, staring up. He met her gaze, and saw the shift in her expression before she turned and started down the sidewalk, glancing back as she rounded the corner.

John stared after her, turning things over in his mind, and made a snap decision.

"Mick, something's come up," he said, turning from the window and walking over to Mickey. "Take over, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure," Mickey said, sounding bewildered as he accepted the note John passed to him.

John continued from the house, pulling off his gloves as he went, and headed down the sidewalk in the direction Rose had gone. He turned the corner, scanning the street with his eyes, and finally saw her, leaning against the wall.   
Clara was across from her, half-sitting on the hood of an old, nondescript grey car, and both girls looked at him as he drew closer.

They eyed him appraisingly for a moment, and then Clara raised her eyebrows.

"What if he's wearing a wire?"

"I'm not," John said, holding out his arms. "You can check."

Clara's expression turned sly as she straightened. "Oh, we will."

John glanced at Rose, who looked back with a smirk, and moved to get into the car when Clara gestured for him to do so, sliding into the backseat as Rose got behind the wheel and Clara settled in the passenger seat.

The ride was silent, and John wondered where they were going. He assumed they were taking him back to their flat, though he didn't know for what purpose. Several thoughts flourished in his mind, but he dismissed them before they could take full form; fantasy rarely turned into reality.

His first assumption proved to be correct when they pulled up outside of an apartment building, parking at the back of the lot before heading inside.

None of them spoke, but the silence wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. It was full of a kind of restless anticipation, and John followed them inside their flat, expecting to stop in the living room. They continued into the bedroom, though, and he slowed uncertainly until Rose beckoned for him to join them. He did so, swallowing as his eyes flitted to the bed, and then from Clara to Rose, and Rose's lips twitched in an anxious smile as she stepped forward to kiss him.

"Wait," he murmured, his hands rising to her arms as he reluctantly pulled back. "I thought you were together?"

"So you've been checking up on us," Clara said, the corner of her mouth rising. "How long have you known?"

"Since the benefit."

"But you haven't even tried to arrest us."

John shook his head. "I – I don't want to. I understand why you do what you do, and it sounds ridiculous to say it out loud, but, well..." He felt his face redden. "I really like you both."

"We like you too," Rose murmured, her whole body seeming to relax.

"But – you're a couple."

Clara shrugged. "Yes, but we've always been open to the idea of bringing someone else in. And like Rose said, we really like you, John. So, if you want..."

Clara trailed off, raising her eyebrows, and John looked from her back to Rose. It was only a heartbeat's consideration before he lifted his hand to Rose's neck, sliding it under her hair as he bent his head to kiss her. She kissed him back, her fingers slipping beneath his suit jacket to grip his shirt, and then her hands moved up to push the jacket from his shoulders.

They wasted no time in divesting each other of the rest of their clothing, and Rose dropped onto the bed, scooting back as John followed. He settled his hips between her thighs, bending his head to kiss her again, and then lowered his hand between them to guide himself inside of her. She broke the kiss with a soft gasp, her fingers digging into his shoulders as her thighs tightened around his hips.

After just a few seconds, Rose sat up and pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips and easing down his length. His hands slid up her thighs to her hips, staring at the motion of her body, and as he was wondering how this could possibly get any better, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked over to see Clara taking off her clothes as well.

"Can't let her have all the fun," she murmured, grinning as she climbed onto the bed. She bent to kiss John, and he brought one hand up to push her hair back, the other still keeping a firm hold on Rose's hip. The kiss lingered for a long moment, and then Clara carefully positioned herself over John's mouth, facing Rose.

John didn't hesitate to open his mouth over Clara, bringing both hands up to grip her hips now, and she gasped at the first movement of his tongue, leaning forward to rest her hands on his torso. Her eyes were level with where Rose and John were joined, and she stared, mesmerized by the rocking of Rose's hips, until Rose placed her fingertips under Clara's chin to tip her head up for a kiss.

Clara moaned into Rose's mouth as John flicked his tongue over her clit, and broke the kiss with a gasp, bowing her head for a moment as her hands dropped to the bed, gripping the sheets in her fingers.

Clara came first, several minutes later, when John sucked hard on her clit, sending her crashing over the edge with a loud cry. She sat frozen for a brief moment, her thighs trembling around his ears as her orgasm pulsed through her, and then fell to the side, rolling onto her back. Rose was still moving, her hands pressed against John's stomach, mouth open and brow creased, and Clara could tell she was close. She shifted to turn over, rising to her knees and pressing her lips to Rose's as her hand slipped between her and John, and Rose gave a sharp gasp as Clara pressed her fingers to her clit, rubbing in fast, tight circles like she knew Rose liked.

John groaned at the sight in front of him, Clara's lovely back and arse, her hand between him and Rose, fingers touching indiscriminately as she kissed Rose's neck and breasts, while Rose's mouth hung open in a beautiful 'o' shape. He just hoped Rose was going to come soon, because he wouldn't be able to last much longer.

Finally, he felt Rose tighten around him with a moan, and he followed immediately after, his hands gripping her hips to keep her on top of him. She slumped over him, her hands sliding up his torso, and when his hands relaxed, she moved off of him, stretching out on his right side as Clara did the same on his left.

They lay quietly for a few minutes, and John's head spun as he stared up at the ceiling. He thought this kind of thing only happened in porn, or his dirtiest fantasies, and yet, here he was, having just had sex with two incredibly beautiful women who were now cuddled up on either side of him.

"What an odd chain of events that led us here," he murmured, and grinned when both girls laughed.

"You're definitely not wearing a wire," Clara said, turning onto her side and propping her head in her hand. John looked over at her, unable to resist letting his eyes drift down her body, and stopped at the brace around her ankle.

"I think it's safe to say that you didn't do the robbery tonight."

"No," Clara replied, laughing softly. "That was Rose."

"You were sloppy tonight," he said, turning his head to look at Rose. "Usually it's a good while before your thefts are discovered."

"Because we wanted you to find us. I didn't leave any actual physical evidence behind, but I left the window open so he'd notice it right away and you'd get the call."

"I'm guessing you picked him because of what happened Tuesday?" John said, glancing at Clara, who scowled.

"I was tempted to have Rose do something to his stupid shoes, but that would've been too specific, and didn't fit the others."

John nodded as he pushed to sit up, leaning against the wall as Rose sat up as well, turning to face him and settling with her legs crossed, while Clara remained stretched out on his other side.

"I have to ask, what prompted all of this? I mean, not _this_ ," he said, gesturing between the three of them and making the girls laugh, "but the robberies."

"I lost my job," Clara replied. "I was a teacher, but budget cuts came along, and the term before summer holidays last year was my last one. Rose was working at the chip shop, and helped me get the job there. I don't mind working there, but like... I was angry, you know? I loved teaching, loved my students, and then, just like that, I'm out because they'd rather take money from education to keep it in their pockets."

John frowned. "But the robberies didn't start up until earlier this year."

"Yeah, I never really saw how rich people treated those in service jobs – waiters, shop workers, things like that – until I actually started working a service job, and suddenly it was all I was seeing. People treating me, and Rose, and the other people we work with like we're just the lowest of the low, simply because we're waitresses. And when I noticed it, I started noticing it everywhere, and it just made me mad. So I decided I wanted to exact some revenge. Rose and I took a few months to learn how to pick locks, open safes, climb through windows, things like that. I did the first one, and blimey, was I nervous. Made a lot of changes after that, once I saw what we needed to work on, and we got really good, really quick."

"Obviously," John muttered, making both girls grin. "It's taken me this long to figure out who you were. What was your routine with it?"

"We usually alternate back and forth," Rose replied. "You know, Clara did the first one, so I did the second one, and we switched off. But we'd find our mark – someone who was very obviously wealthy, always easy to spot, who treated someone in a service position particularly atrociously – and start doing research. We'd find out their name, or maybe stealthily follow them home to get their address, and then start from there. We found out where they worked, who their friends were, what kind of hours they kept, and then whoever was doing the job would pose as something, usually a housekeeper, but sometimes wait staff for parties, to gain access to the house and learn the layout. Most of these people will talk about anything in front of you when you're in that kind of position, because you're invisible to them, so we'd find out if they had a vacation planned, or a night out, or something, and plan to hit while they were gone."

"The car you saw tonight was my mum's," Clara continued. "It's still in her name, so it can't be immediately traced back to us. We usually park it somewhere the day before, a few blocks away, as a means to get home, since we always finish after midnight. Nobody ever notices an old grey car, so long as it's not parked in a wealthy area."

John nodded. "Nobody ever even mentioned seeing a strange car, and I never got a description of either of you from anybody, not the victims, nor the people from the housekeeping or catering companies."

"Yeah, because we never officially worked for them. We'd just sort of slip in, and nobody ever really noticed. And occasionally we use disguises, like wigs or glasses, or use padding to change our body shape."

"What did you do with the jewelry you took?"

"Sold it in Paris. We'd go the morning after, so by the time the crime was discovered, the jewelry was long gone."

"Where's the money?"

"Some of it's here," Clara replied, smirking. "The bulk of it we recently put into an offshore account."

John shook his head, giving a short, incredulous laugh. "You two are something else. All this time investigating this case, never finding evidence, never having a single clue as to who I was looking for, and here you are, just two ordinary women. I have to admit, I'm impressed."

"But you're not going to arrest us?" Rose asked, her expression mildly apprehensive.

"I should. The cop side of me is screaming for me to, but I truly don't want to. You may have broken the law, but you never hurt anybody, and I can't really blame you for doing what you did. My mum was a housekeeper for most of her working life, and I knew how she was treated. Some of the people she worked for were nice, good people, but most of them were the kind to treat anybody they deemed 'less than' like trash, and I hated that she had to deal with that. This entire case, I've related more to you than to the victims."

Rose and Clara smiled, and John raised his eyebrows.

"So, what now?"

"Well," Clara began, taking a deep breath. "Tonight was our last robbery. We were planning to take all our money and just run away somewhere."

"Leaving me with an unsolved case," John muttered with a smirk.

"Or," Rose said, glancing at Clara. "You could come with us."

John looked back and forth between them, his smirk becoming skeptical.

"You're serious," he said finally. "You want me to run away with you."

"Sure," Rose murmured, her shoulders rising in a shrug as Clara said, "Why not?"

John gave a short laugh. "I can't just – just _leave_. I have... I have..."

John trailed off. What did he have? His family was all gone, and he had a few friends – Donna, Amy, and Rory, namely – but he doubted they would really blame him for leaving. He wasn't as fond of his job as he used to be, so really, what did he have?

"Nothing," he muttered with another short laugh. "I have nothing."

Rose shifted closer to him, sliding her hand under his, and he looked up at her, his gaze shifting to Clara when she took his other hand. They were both smiling, though they both also seemed a little anxious, and Rose shrugged again when he looked back at her.

"You have us."

"If you want us," Clara added, drawing his attention to her once more. He looked between them, and then down at their hands joined with his, unable to keep from noticing how nice and natural it felt, having both of their hands in his.

"I do want you," he murmured finally, and took a deep breath as he nodded. "All right. Let's do it. Let's run away together."

Rose and Clara's faces lit up, and he laughed as they both leaned over to kiss his cheeks, sliding his arms around them as he turned his head to kiss Clara's lips, and then Rose's.

When the kisses broke, both girls had rather devilish looks on their faces, and he grinned as he allowed them to pull him down on the bed again.


	8. Chapter 8

The sound of the waves crashing was soothing, and John slit his eyes against the sunshine, still almost too bright even with sunglasses. He'd brought a book with him to the beach, but had set it aside a short while ago in favor of people watching, and just enjoying the waves and the clear blue skies.

"I think you missed a spot," Clara said from his right, and he looked over at her as she ran a finger over his upper arm. "You're getting a bit too pink."

"Might be time to reapply anyway," he muttered as he sat up straighter, lowering his feet to the sand as he accepted the bottle of sun block Clara passed to him.

"That fair English skin," Rose said with a giggle from his other side.

"Look more like a boiled ham than a person," John replied as he smeared the lotion over his skin.

"It's a gradual process," Clara said, pushing to her feet and taking the bottle from him so she could do his back.

John smiled softly at the feeling of Clara's hands on his skin. It had been a week since the three of them had run away together, and any doubts he might have had about making such a rash, impulsive decision were all gone. His relationship with Rose and Clara was strengthening every day, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than waking up every morning curled up with the two of them, the warm air and ocean breeze reminding him that this was his life now.

They'd bought an airy two bedroom bungalow-style villa the day after they'd arrived; it had been a quick sale, given that they'd been able to pay for it in cash right up front, and they were able to move in just a couple of days later. It wasn't quite on the beach, but it was close enough to walk, which they did every day after breakfast. They'd already settled into something of a routine, though at the moment, it consisted mostly of spending a good portion of the day on the beach, with breaks for food when needed. They knew their money wouldn't last forever, and had briefly discussed ways of generating income that didn't interfere too much with their new lives, but for now, they were content to treat this as a vacation.

Clara's hands drifted up his back to squeeze his shoulders as she bent to kiss his head, and he lifted one hand to grip her fingers, tipping his head back for a proper kiss.

"Dunno about you two," Rose said as she pushed to stand. "But I'm getting a bit hungry."

"Mmm, yeah, I could do with some food," Clara replied as she straightened. "D'you want to make lunch back at the house, or go somewhere? There's still loads of new places for us to try."

"Let's go somewhere," Rose said decisively. "I'm still looking for a new favorite place."

"Sounds good to me," John murmured, reaching for Rose's hand and tugging her closer. He slid his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hip, and she was smiling when he looked up at her.

The girls started to gather up their things, but John stood and waved them off.

"I'll get this stuff; you two go on back to the house and decide where you want to go."

Rose and Clara nodded, and he shared a kiss with them both before they turned and started across the sand. He watched them go, enjoying the view just as much as he enjoyed the new swelling of emotion he felt every time he looked at them, and then bent to pick up their towels and other belongings, placing everything inside the large tote bag Clara had brought with them. Once he was sure he'd gotten everything, he quickly folded up his beach chair and hooked it over one shoulder before slinging the tote bag over his other shoulder and heading for the house.

It was a midsized white building, in the typical Spanish style for the area, with a small yard in the front and a pool in the back. A white wooden fence surrounded the whole property, tall enough to provide both privacy and security, and John let himself in through the back gate, which the girls had left unlocked for him. He could see them now, through the sliding door into the bedroom, and they smiled when they saw him. He walked around the pool to set the beach chair against the wall with the others, and then moved to open the door into the bedroom.

"Did you decide what to do for lunch?" he asked as he set the tote bag on the floor.

"Yeah, we're ready when you are," Rose said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

John grabbed a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser on his way to the bathroom, and once he'd rinsed the sand from his skin and changed out of his bathing suit, the three of them left the house.

Everything so far was within walking distance, so they hadn't yet bought a car, though they had considered the possibility for the future. For now, they enjoyed the walking, and it helped them get a better idea of the area.

They had a nice lunch at one of the local restaurants, and decided to do some shopping afterward, both for new clothes and for things for the house.

As they passed by a bookstore, John found his mind wandering to Amy. Of all the people he had left behind, Amy and Rory and little Melody were the ones he missed the most. They'd become something like family to him, even more so than Donna, and though he knew they had other friends and family, he felt bad about not being there when Amy needed help during Rory's late nights, and he wasn't fond of the idea that whoever ended up moving into his flat wouldn't be so tolerant of living next door to a young couple with a baby.

Before he'd left, John had written them a note, and stuffed it into an envelope with a thousand pounds in cash. He'd given it to a bemused Amy as he was leaving for the airport, who promised she wouldn't open it until the Sunday he was due back from his holiday, and then pulled her into a tight hug.

"Everything all right?" she asked with a quick laugh when he finally let her go. "You're not dying or anything, are you?"

"No," he replied, laughing as well. "Not dying, just... want you to know that I care for you a lot, Amy. You and Rory and Mels."

"Right back at you," Amy said, still looking at him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. "Have fun on your trip, and _relax_."

John had laughed once more, and nodded as he picked up his bag, returning her wave before starting down the corridor.

Looking at the display in the bookshop window, John allowed himself a small smile as he imagined one day seeing Amy's book in there. She would get it published, and he would buy it as soon as he was able to; he hoped one day he might even get her to sign it for him.

After a couple of hours of shopping, they returned home, all laden down with several bags, and decided to make use of their pool until dinner. The girls shed their clothes, and then headed right back outside, forgoing their bathing suits. John couldn't help smiling as he watched them jump into the water, loving that having their own pool and a tall fence meant lots of skinny dipping and outdoor love making, though the latter had only happened once so far.

"Stop staring at us and come on," Rose said, pushing her hair back and resting her hands on the edge of the pool.

"He's still gobsmacked that he's in a relationship with two utterly gorgeous women," Clara murmured as she floated by on her back, her hands creating small waves as she lazily propelled herself through the water.

John laughed, unable to refute this, and stripped off his clothes so he could join them.

He ended up having sex with Rose against the pool ladder while Clara watched from the side, having assured them that she didn't want to join in. He was still learning to shake the feeling that he had to divide his time equally between the two of them, that what he did with Rose he had to then do with Clara, or vice versa. They'd discussed it the day after their first night together, each of them agreeing to the understanding that if they waited to have sex when all three of them were in the mood, they probably wouldn't be having that much sex, and that it was okay for two of them to pair off if the other wasn't around, or wasn't interested.

Indeed, Clara was watching them with such a loving expression that bore no hint of jealousy that it eased John's worries even more, and when it was over, she floated close to give them each a kiss.

Dinner was steaks cooked on the grill outside by John, while the girls prepared the sides in the kitchen, and he had the sliding door open so he could listen to the news. They fully intended to learn Spanish, but for the moment, they still relied on what there was in English, and had managed to find an English-speaking news channel.

It was mostly local news, with a brief segment for international stories, and John's mind wandered to what might happen when he didn't show up to work on Monday. He was sure that the first reaction would be to assume that something had happened to him while he was on holiday, and they would go to Barcelona, as that was where he had booked his flight to, and where his trail would run cold. Upon his arrival in Barcelona, he'd thrown away his phone and credit card, and met up with the girls to take the ferry to the island, which had been paid for with cash, along with everything else after that point.

How long would they look for him before giving up and deciding he must be dead? He figured it would be a few months, at least. The notes he'd left with Amy and Rory, and Donna, had been to assure them that no matter what the police said, he was very much alive, and safe and happy. He hadn't left any details about where he was going, but had asked them not to worry, and promised he would see them again, though he couldn't say when. He could only hope they trusted him enough to believe him, and that he could trust them enough to keep the notes to themselves.

Time would tell, and for the moment, John was working on growing a beard, thinking that facial hair, combined with a tan (whenever his skin got used to the sun, anyway), would keep anybody from suspecting who he really was.

A smile curved his lips as he imagined what Donna would say if she could see him now.

They'd met for lunch the week before, mostly to clear the air from their fight, because he couldn't leave without being on good terms with Donna.

When he got to the restaurant, she had already gotten their table, and she stood when she saw him, immediately pulling him into a hug.

"This is nice," he said with a surprised laugh as he hugged her back.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she replied when they pulled apart.

John nodded as he pulled out his chair and sank into it. "Yeah, I am too."

The conversation had been fairly benign; she'd asked about the case, and he deflected her by saying he didn't want to talk about work, which then led her to ask about Clara. He'd confessed that there was something going on between him and Clara, mostly because he knew she wouldn't leave it alone, and then told her about his upcoming trip.

"You're going on holiday?" she'd asked, surprised. "Blimey, how many years has it been since you took time off?"

"Too long," he'd muttered. "But that's the other reason I wanted to meet today, to tell you about it. Don't miss me too much."

Donna scoffed. "Please, after a day, you'll be missing _me_."

"S'pose you're right," he replied with a laugh.

When they were outside later, he'd pulled her into another tight hug, and handed her the envelope.

"Don't open it until the Sunday I'm supposed to be back, okay?"

Donna smirked as she held it up to the light. "Why can't I open it now?"

"No, really, Donna, don't," he said, placing his hand over hers when she teased the flap of the envelope with her nail. "Wait, okay?"

"Yeah, all right," she murmured, her smile fading as she looked at him. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's great. I promise. Take care, Donna."

"I'll see you when you get back, yeah?"

John hadn't been able to respond, unable to tell her the truth, but not wanting to lie, so he'd just smiled and waved as he started back to his car.

If Donna could see him now, she'd probably be impressed that he was dating two women, and that he'd actually succeeded in running away and starting a new life. The thought made him smile.

A short while later, John announced the steaks were ready, and the three of them ate outside. When they were finished, they decided to take a walk on the beach, holding hands with Rose in the middle, until Rose being in the middle became something else entirely, and they hurried back home to collapse into bed together.

Afterward, they all showered before climbing back into bed, and now the girls were asleep, curled up together while John lay awake, listening to their breathing mixed with the sound of the ocean through the open window. He smiled as he watched them for a while, feeling his heart swelling once more, and a thought occurred to him that was so ridiculous he almost laughed out loud. He'd never say it to them, knowing they would tease him mercilessly, but he couldn't help thinking that Impossible Wolf's final crime had been stealing his heart.

Shaking his head at himself, he finally laid down to sleep, stretching his arm across both girls as he closed his eyes.


End file.
